


Field Training

by Mordinette



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Humor, No Reapers, Romance, Spectre training, rivals to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 134,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spectre training was easy. Putting up with her turian teammate during their group lessons was less so. AU story with Shepard, Garrus, Jondum Bau, and as many characters from the Mass Effect universe as I can fit in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this story because I wanted to explore a Mass Effect universe where there are no Reapers, but several of my favorite characters are still brought together by one circumstance or another, and where they still develop that special kind of relationship that made the games so memorable for me. This is a Garrus/FemShep story, so if you're a fan of that couple, I hope you'll enjoy this fic. To the readers who are only here for Kasumi and Jondum Bau, I'm sorry to disappoint: although they both appear in Field Training, they are not a pair in this story. Even so, I hope you can still enjoy the fic for Garrus and FemShep and all the other characters that pop up here and there.
> 
> Thank you to Tuffet37 and KabiViolet for their help and to KabiViolet for beta reading.

Jondum Bau could never understand other races' irrational need for darkness during the Presidium's artificial night cycle. Granted, the carefully-simulated black sky provided a pleasing backdrop for the shimmering lights that outlined the offices, shops, and other establishments in this part of the Citadel during the late hours, but as far as _he_ was concerned, it was all just wasted resources that could have been better spent on other things.

Like actual, proper exterior lighting. He definitely could have used some of that right now.

He let out a rather undignified groan as he rubbed his foot and softly cursed whoever it was that had left something so hard and unyielding right next to the entrance door. His aching toes sufficiently soothed, he lifted his left arm and fired up his omni-tool to enter his access code to the apartment's VI. The system went through the extensive verification procedure he had set up for his security system, and in a few moments the lights finally came on with a comforting hum.

He blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, and once he got his vision back, he walked around, evaluating every piece of furniture, every little detail in the spacious room.

All seemed to be in order, except for the entry table that he had stubbed his toes on. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he contemplated this new variable; he was certain that item had not been so close to the door before he'd left for his last mission.

He carefully deposited his bag on the floor and, without taking another step, brought up his omni-tool once again to scan the table and its surroundings for an explosive device. The results were negative, which was somewhat comforting, but it wasn't quite enough to put him at ease, so he tiptoed to the offending piece of furnishing and examined it inch by inch.

There were no outward signs of any tempering with the structural integrity of the item, but that didn't mean that somebody hadn't had an ulterior motive in changing its position. Maybe they'd put a listening device behind it on the wall; it wouldn't have been the first time, and certainly not the last, for an adversary to try to get the upper hand by such devious methods.

He grabbed the top and gently pushed until the table was back in its usual place. The wall behind it was clear; the carpet under it, however, was not.

"Chel," Bau growled in exasperation as he examined the bright blue stain blooming in an abstract shape on the light beige flooring. It appeared to have come from some kind of a cleaning fluid. If he looked closely, he could even see the faint outline of a bucket that had pressed into the lush carpet's pile, leaving a tamped down ring and a few more drops of blue splotches in its wake.

He straightened up, shaking his head, and headed into the kitchen to make himself a cup of herbal tea. This was what you got when you gave in to your family's nagging despite your reservations: an idiot cousin for a housekeeper who could never do anything right.

 

* * *

Bau settled down in front of his computer and allowed himself a sip of the steaming liquid before he deposited the mug onto the desk and turned on the display to check his mail. A quick scan revealed a few encrypted notes from some of his contacts, a notification from the Requisitions Office about a new weapon he might consider purchasing, and a message from the Council that flashed an urgent red.

Having just returned from a grueling trip, he wasn't really looking forward to another lengthy assignment so soon, no matter how much he loved his work, but he dutifully clicked on the subject line and opened the missive.

 _'Spectre Bau,'_ it read, _'Please contact me at your earliest convenience.'_

His heart nearly skipped a beat when he got to the signature: the letter was from Councilor Tevos.

He swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat and entered the code with unsteady fingers to put in a call to the beautiful asari.

"Ah, Spectre Bau," the Councilor's smooth voice drifted from the holo display as her image shimmered to life. "Thank you for answering my message. I need your help."

Bau sat up a bit straighter in his chair, thrilled beyond words that she was asking for _his_ assistance with whatever it was she needed, and gave an encouraging wave of his hand. "Anything. Anything at all."

Tevos awarded him with a smile, which did wonderful things to his chest. "It's about two new Spectre candidates. Both of them are on the Citadel at the moment, and they both were supposed to start their training tomorrow. Unfortunately," she continued, pressing her fingers together in a graceful gesture, "neither Spectre Kryik nor Spectre Vasir have returned from their respective missions in time to begin the mentoring program."

Jondum tilted his head as he drank in the asari's words. She had a very pleasant voice, and those patterns on her face were so delicate—

"I know this is a bit sudden, but I was wondering if you would be willing to step in and lend us your knowledge and experience in training one of these candidates? They have both taken leave from their official positions and are ready to go out in the field. You could have your pick of the two; we'll try to find another mentor for the one left behind."

She waited for a few seconds, expecting the salarian to say something, but he merely stared at her with those big, black eyes, so she cleared her throat and went on. "Naturally, you will be compensated for your efforts and will be provided with all the resources and support you need. So, can I count on you, Spectre?"

"Oh," Bau finally croaked out, "of course. I'll be happy to assist."

"Excellent." Tevos raised her arm to activate her omni-tool and tapped on a few holographic keys. "I have sent you their files. Please look through them carefully, and once you've made your decision, let me know which candidate you would like to work with. And thank you."

She flashed him a wonderful smile before her visage disappeared and Bau was left staring at the flickering static on his holo display.

His reverie was interrupted by a ping on his computer. A glance at the interface confirmed that the files had arrived, and he opened the first folder to check what exactly he had agreed to.

_'Shepard, Jane. Human. Commanding Officer of the SSV Normandy under Captain David Anderson, Systems Alliance._

_Born: April 11, 2154, Mindoir. Entire_ _family killed during a batarian slavers raid on the colony._

_Joined the human military at the age of 18. Graduate of the Systems Alliance N7 special forces program._

_Trained in biotic and tech powers and a wide range of weapons. Exhibits outstanding military and leadership skills._

_Recipient of the Star of Terra award for her heroic actions during the attack on the human colony Elysium.'_

Bau's head bobbed up and down as he read the commander's psych profile and service record. Oh, yes, he knew who this was. He'd seen plenty of news reports and salarian reconnaissance files about her: Hero of the Skyllian Blitz, talented officer and charismatic leader—one of the best in the Alliance.

And now, with _his_ help, she could become the first human Spectre as well.

He closed the files; he'd read enough. A heroic soldier who had both biotic and tech talents? He was definitely intrigued.

Whoever the other candidate was, he couldn't imagine that they could be any more promising. It would have been unfair of him, however, to not even glimpse at the second file before he made his choice, so he opened up the folder to take a quick look.

His lips stretched into a wide grin when he read the name. Well, well. It appeared that little Garrus had grown up and was ready to play Spectre now.

He wondered what the older Vakarian thought of his son's decision. Bau still remembered the arguments he used to have with his ex-partner about the near-absolute powers of Council Spectres, as well as the less than amicable manner they'd parted ways when he'd quit C-Sec for his own training.

Regardless of their history, his job at the moment was to make an unbiased assessment of the two candidates, so he buried himself in the files and absorbed every detail about what Garrus Vakarian had been up to all these years.

 

* * *

The salarian leaned back in his chair with a sigh. This decision had turned out to be much harder than he'd anticipated.

Though Garrus did not quite have the same amount of special training and battle experience that Commander Shepard did, he unquestionably deserved to be a candidate for Spectre training. According to these documents, besides having an admirable track record as a young detective in C-Sec's Investigation Division, he was also a top-ranked hand-to-hand specialist, an excellent sharp-shooter, and a talented tech expert.

Bau picked up the mug that had been sitting abandoned by his console, and took a slow slurp of the now-cold tea. This was indeed a difficult choice. As much as he looked forward to working with the human commander, he had an almost irrational urge to take young Vakarian under his wing. Not only for the outstanding abilities and sense of integrity the turian had exhibited, but also because, despite Bau's best efforts to disregard his past with his former C-Sec partner, he couldn't help but feel a small tickle of glee in his chest at the possibility of training Taius Vakarian's own son to become exactly what the old curmudgeon had always riled against.

A soft chuckle escaped Jondum's lips and his eyes lit up when a radical idea took hold of his brain. He placed his drink down on his desk again and tapped on the interface to put in a call to Councilor Tevos.

The asari's face soon came into view. "Spectre Bau," she greeted him with a slight tip of her head, "have you made a decision?"

Bau couldn't hold back the grin as he gave her the news. "Yes. I'm going to take both."

 

* * *

Commander Shepard had just about had enough of this day. First it was the Council giving her the runaround about her upcoming Spectre training, then Udina had to drag her into his office to lecture her about her "insolent behavior", and now this. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut for a second to try to calm her nerves before she was going to explode.

It didn't help.

"How can they be gone already?" she burst out, staring daggers at the shopkeeper across the counter. "Didn't these just come in today?"

Etarn Tiron opened his arms in what he hoped was a placating gesture. The commander had dropped enough credits in his store on her previous visits to the Citadel to make her one of his best customers, and he wasn't keen on losing his good standing with her over a sniper rifle mod, no matter how state-of-the art it was. "Yes, they did, but we only received a few. It's a brand new item—highly sought after. The gentleman that was leaving just as you came in? He bought the last one. I'm sorry."

"Dammit." Shepard let out an annoyed puff of air as she glanced over her shoulder. Yes, she remembered the turian in the blue armor. She'd bumped into him in the doorway when he was leaving the store just as she finally got to Rodam Expeditions. She'd had no idea what treasure he was getting away with when he brushed by her and went on his merry way. And of course, he was long gone by now.

She threw a wistful glance at the kiosk's display. She'd really wanted to get her hands on that piece of new tech. It was a thermal scope that was supposed to reveal enemies through walls and smoke, and she'd had her eye on it ever since it had been announced by the manufacturer's research department.

"I've put in a new order for another shipment," Etarn said, trying to sound as encouraging as he could. "Since it's a novel item, supplies are limited and it might take a while to get them, but I'm confident that we can outfit you with this model as soon as possible."

The commander shook her head with a sigh. "I don't know how much longer I'll be here. And I really could have used it now. But I'll check again whenever I'm back on the station."

She gave a sad nod to her favorite shopkeeper and walked out of the store. She really, _really_ needed a drink right now. Or two. Or several—whatever it took to make this shitty day at least a little bit better.

 

* * *

"Hit me," Shepard said, slurring her words slightly, as she blinked up with unfocused eyes at the turian. The bartender unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured some more of that green liquid into her glass. She sent it down the hatch with a grimace, slammed the glass down, then slumped over the counter again, leaning an elbow on the bar and holding her head up with one hand.

This sucked. Hanging out aimlessly on the Citadel, waiting for the Council to get their act together while her friends and crew were off doing actual missions, was not the way she'd imagined this whole Spectre business. She wished she was back on the _Normandy._ She missed the action, the excitement, her friends—it was hard to believe, but she even missed their pilot's snarky attitude and bad jokes.

Her eyes wandered around the room. If at least there were some Alliance soldiers here on shore leave, she could join them for the evening. It would sure beat drinking alone.

Dark Star Lounge was definitely filling up, but she didn't see any human military personnel; what she did see, however, was a familiar turian in blue armor, drinking with his buddies at the far end of the counter.

Her hand tightened on her glass as she remembered how that jerk had snatched up the last MX-117. _Her mod._ He probably didn't even know how special that thing was. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him down his drink and clap another turian on the shoulder. Their little group burst into laughter at something he said, which only served to irritate her even more. Funny guy, huh? That asshole.

At her gesture, the bartender filled her glass again. She was about to pour the burning liquid down her throat when a light bulb went off, shining brightly, in her head. Maybe she could buy the damn thing off him. She could offer him a price that was more than what he'd paid; surely he would want to make a profit, wouldn't he?

Happy with her new battle plan, she picked up her glass and sauntered over to the group, trying very hard not to trip over her own feet on her way there. Luckily, she managed to make it without spilling too much of her drink.

She sidled up to her target's side and gave him a bright smile. "Hi."

He blinked at her with his beady little eyes and murmured a "Hello" before he turned back to his friends.

Shepard tried to come up with some witty things she could say before she'd throw her brilliant idea at him, but she came up empty. She was a soldier, damn it, not a politician; besides, he didn't exactly make it easy for her to chat him up.

To hell with it; she decided to just come out with her offer and get this over with. "Hey," she said, tapping him on the shoulder. "I have a proposition for you."

He turned back towards her with an annoyed sigh. "I'm not interested."

Shepard's eyebrows pulled into a frown. "You don't even know what I was going to suggest."

The turian's mandibles flared out, showcasing his sharp teeth, and his eyes slid up and down her body with what looked like a totally inappropriate smirk. "I'm pretty sure I do. But like I said, I'm not interested. Sorry, but I'm not into humans."

Her eyes went wide and her jaw hung open for a second at his ridiculous insinuation. Yes, she was out of her armor, wearing a rather form-fitting set of shirt and pants—an early morning decision on her part that she started to really regret now—but still, that didn't give him the right to talk to her like that.

She leaned closer with a snarl. "I'm not into turians either, you asshole. I wouldn't be interested in _you_ if you were the last man alive. Or turian. Whatever." She rubbed the back of her neck with a sigh. This wasn't exactly going like she'd planned it. "Look, all I want is that sniper rifle mod you got at Rodam Expeditions. I'm willing to pay double price for it."

He seemed to digest this new information for a moment before he shook his head. "Still not interested."

His friends laughed, he turned away from her, and Shepard had to dig her nails into the palms of her hands to prevent herself from throwing the bunch of them straight across the room.

"Idiots," she growled as she marched out of the bar, her biotics crackling an impotent blue around her clenched fists.

 

* * *

By the time she got back to her hotel room, all she wanted was to take a shower, get under the covers, and sleep. This day couldn't end soon enough.

She kicked off her shoes and was about to head to the bathroom when her omni-tool went off with a ping. She fired up the interface and sat down in the armchair by the window to read the message.

Halleluiah. Finally some good news. Spectre training was starting the next morning, and she was to meet Jondum Bau at his ship at Docking Bay D-36.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she read the rest of the note: in an unprecedented gesture, the Spectre was taking on two candidates to train at once.

There were also a few files included about the other person, and Shepard wasted no time opening them up.

Her heart nearly froze in her chest when she saw the picture of the other candidate. Her future teammate was none other than that insufferable, obnoxious, mod-snatching turian dick in the blue armor.

Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her head into her hands with a groan.

It was official: the universe really, truly, absolutely hated her.


	2. A Few Simple Tests

Shepard took one last look around the hotel room before she picked up her bags and walked through the door. She'd had more than enough of this place; besides, she had no intentions of being late—especially on her first day of Spectre training.

Traffic was still light this early in the morning, and she made excellent time in her rented skycar to the upper level of the docks. All she needed now was that damn elevator. Her fingers drummed out an impatient beat on her folded arms as she waited, and once the doors finally slid open with a soft chime, she hurried into the cabin and wasted no time reaching for the control panel to start the long ride down.

Her hand froze in the air when a voice called out from the lobby, asking her to wait, and after a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly grabbed the door to keep it open. She instantly regretted her decision when a tall turian rushed in, coming to an abrupt stop by her side.

_Of course_ it had to be him. So much for trying to get there before _he_ did.

Her unexpected travel-mate gave her a small nod. "Shepard."

So, he'd read her file. Well, that was to be expected—after all, she'd read his.

"Vakarian," she grunted. She pressed the button for Level D, and the elevator started its downward trek with a lurch.

They rode in silence for a while, which was more than fine with her, until she noticed from the corner of her eye that the turian had turned his head in her direction. He appeared to be studying her for a few moments before he made a statement.

"You're a biotic."

"Yes," she replied tersely, her gaze stubbornly fixed ahead. There was no reason to encourage Captain Obvious with any eye contact.

"Then why do you even need the MX-117?"

Shepard forced out an annoyed huff of air from her lungs. "Well, let's see... It has improved scoping distance, better stability, and oh, yes, it can see through smoke and walls. You're right," she shook her head, "why would anybody want that?"

"But most biotics don't use sniper rifles," he pressed on, ignoring the sharp bite in her tone.

She shrugged. "This one does."

"Hmm." He was quiet for a few seconds as he seemed to mull over her answer. "Maybe we could have a little shooting contest sometime."

She finally glanced up at him. "Maybe we could. As long as it's not through smoke or a wall."

He snorted in amusement, and they spent the rest of the ride in silence. When the elevator jerked to a stop and the doors slid open with a hiss, they exited the cabin together and walked side by side to bay D-36.

 

* * *

 

Bau narrowed his eyes and let out an occasional 'Huh' as he went through the shipping manifest, carefully checking off every item on the list against the various boxes and crates that were piled up around him at the bottom of the entrance ramp that led up to his ship.

The delivery crew coughed and fidgeted nervously as they waited for him to sign off on the merchandise, but he pretended not to notice. Everything was in order, but they didn't need to know that yet. Making people uncomfortable and keeping them on their toes wasn't something he particularly enjoyed, but it had the benefit of ensuring that they did their best to perform up to his expectations—and, occasionally, even beyond that.

"Good," he finally said as he added his signature to the document and handed the datapad back to the crew foreman.

A clearly audible sigh of relief shuddered through the group, and they hurried off before the Spectre could find something to complain about. The boxes still needed to be moved into the storage rooms, but Bau had other people in mind for that task.

He didn't have to wait long; his new students showed up a few minutes later.

The fact that they came together was a bit surprising. He wondered if, despite his research, which had not indicated any previous affiliation between the two, they had, in fact, known each other beforehand. A thorough observation of their body language, however, as they strode towards him without a word, keeping as much space between them as they could, seemed to contradict this new hypothesis.

Maybe they'd decided to meet up after they'd received their assignments. Or they just happened to arrive at the same time this morning—either way, it was rather convenient to have them here together and be able to talk to them at once. This group training thing was going to work out just fine.

"Ah, Commander Shepard, Officer Vakarian," he greeted them with a small smile when they got closer. "I see you've met already. Excellent. My name is Jondum Bau. I'll be your mentor during your training program. And this," he gestured proudly at the vessel behind him, "is the _Inandra._ It's going to be your home for the next few weeks."

"Spectre," Shepard said, extending her hand in the familiar human gesture. Bau took the offered appendage and gave it a firm squeeze and a shake.

Vakarian merely nodded at him politely. His blue eyes, sharp and intense, seemed to evaluate the salarian from head to toe, just like any good detective would. Bau wondered if Garrus knew about the history between himself and his father. The young turian didn't say anything, though, and Bau decided to keep the information to himself for now.

"Follow me," he said, turning towards the airlock. "I'll show you to your quarters so you can put your bags down."

 

* * *

Crew quarters consisted of one room with a few bunk beds, lockers, a table and a couple of chairs—rather usual for a ship of this size, but not quite what Shepard had hoped for.

Not like she hadn't had to sleep in the same room with a dozen other sweaty and snoring marines before, but, as an officer of the _Normandy,_ she hadn't had to deal with such privacy issues in quite a long time. Besides, those were Alliance soldiers; she'd never had to share accommodations with an alien before—especially not with someone as annoying as this turian.

Vakarian, however, didn't seem to care one way or another about the sleeping arrangements. He walked over to one of the beds and tossed his bags on the mattress, claiming the space for himself. Shepard followed his example, choosing one of the lower bunks on the opposite wall. It was as far away from him as possible.

"Very good," Bau said, giving them a nod of approval. "Now, please come with me."

He turned around and marched out of the ship and down to the pile of supplies at the bottom of the ramp.

"Here," he thrust two datapads at his students when they'd caught up with him, "this is a requisitions list for our trip. No mission, no matter how big or small, can succeed without adequate supplies and equipment. Your job at the moment is to verify that every single thing on this list has been delivered. Once you're satisfied with the results, make sure that all these crates are safely stowed away in the storage rooms on the lower level of the ship. Report to me when you're done."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heels and left his trainees to their task. Shepard shot a quick glance at her turian teammate, which he reciprocated with a very human-looking shrug. She fired up the interface and began the tedious task of going through the items one by one. This wasn't exactly what she'd expected on her first day with the Spectre, but if this was what it took for them to finally lift off and leave the station, then she was going to be the best damn inventory-checker Bau had ever seen.

She couldn't help but wonder what kind of a mission they were about to embark on; apparently the salarian had ordered enough food, ammunition and medical supplies to sustain a small army for months out there in space.

He was certainly a very thorough shopper, and a rather attentive one at that: he had ordered an abundant supply of food and field rations, plenty of dextro fare for Vakarian, and even a few extras for her. She was definitely grateful for the ample quantities of coffee that were hidden in one of these containers.

Garrus, however, didn't quite seem to share her enthusiasm about the amount of provisions they had to catalogue—not to mention carrying them onto the ship.

"Just how much food do you eat?" he blurted out, sizing up his human companion. He could not imagine where all those calories were going; while she wasn't the smallest of her kind he'd ever seen, she certainly wasn't the biggest either.

She stopped what she was doing and glared up at him over the datapad in her hands. "Enough to fuel my biotics. Throwing people around takes a bit more energy than sitting back behind cover and sniping the enemy from afar."

Garrus turned back to his inventory with a shrug. He grumbled something about it still being a lot of food, which Shepard chose to ignore, and they went on with their task without another word.

 

* * *

 

"This is going to take a while," Garrus said, tilting his head to the side as he carefully studied the mess around them. "You're a biotic; can't you levitate them onto the ship?"

Shepard raised her eyes to the ceiling with a sigh. "Jesus, Vakarian," she groaned, "that's not how this works. I was trained to cause a maximum amount of damage to an enemy, not gently float stuff along a path."

Well, to be honest, that was only half the truth. She did have an instructor once, an asari, who'd made a noble attempt to teach her how to better control her powers, but Shepard had never really been one for subtlety in her line of work. Besides, she just couldn't see the point of carefully lifting an item up into the air with her biotics, then depositing it in another location without causing as much as a scratch to the object or the environment around it. Until now. Maybe she should have practiced more.

"You've never even tried?" Garrus pressed on. Damn his detective instincts.

Shepard's brows pulled into a frown. Admitting to a lack of skill wasn't high on her list of things to do, especially not when it came to the turian, but his eyes were watching her so intently that she felt compelled to come out with the truth. "Actually," she said, rubbing the back of her neck, "I have. The results weren't pretty."

His mandibles flared out into a toothy grin before his gaze fell back onto the boxes at their feet. His expression immediately soured. "We have to figure out something else then. I'd rather not spend the whole day hauling this stuff onto the ship."

"Maybe we could find some kind of a cart around here?" she suggested. "It's a docking bay, after all."

Garrus's eyes lit up. "Hmm. Give me a second." He raised his left arm and started up the command interface on his omni-tool.

"What are you doing?"

"I have an idea."

 

* * *

Bau looked up from the star chart in front of him at the sound of loud clanking and an occasional _'Excuse me'_ to find a procession of C-Sec LOKI mechs carrying the supply containers onto the ship, with Shepard and Garrus following close behind. His students seemed to be monitoring the robots' progress and giving them instructions from their omni-tools as the strange little group slowly made its way to the elevator.

He watched them disappear behind the corner, then picked up a datapad and began to type.

_First phase of training going exceptionally well. Candidates exhibiting high level of cooperation and resourcefulness. Second phase to commence shortly._

 

* * *

Once all the supplies were on board and Garrus had directed the mechs back to the warehouse he'd sprung them from, Bau fired up the engines and they finally left the station.

After taking his students on a short trip around the ship, the Spectre shoved two datapads into their hands, asserting that, when out on a mission alone, they'd need to know every little detail about their craft.

Shepard and Garrus spent the rest of the morning studying the schematics of the _Inandra._

Jondum Bau's ship turned out to be one of the best-equipped corvettes Shepard had ever seen. It wasn't the newest model, but it had been extensively fortified with state-of-the-art armor, shields, and weapons, which, judging by the scorch marks on its hull, must have come in quite handy on numerous occasions.

The layout was similar to other vessels of its kind: the upper deck included the cockpit, the galley kitchen and small mess hall, the bathroom and the crew quarters, as well as the captain's cabin. This last one Bau seemed to be using as his center of operations, with its bank of computer terminals lining one wall and a wide desk, covered by datapads, occupying the other.

The lower level housed the engines and the storage rooms, one of which had been converted into a workout area.

"Some missions take a long time, and Spectres need to keep in shape!" Bau had explained enthusiastically when he'd showed them around. "We have a treadmill, a punching bag, a selection of weights, and there are also some mats in the corner for floor exercises. I hope you'll make good use of them."

All in all, this new assignment and this new ship didn't seem too bad so far. Now if only her turian teammate were less annoying, Shepard would be all set.

 

* * *

"What the hell have you done?" Garrus's frustrated voice came rumbling through Shepard's comm as she desperately tried to find the cause of the power fluctuations.

After the lectures about the ship's systems and a small lunch, Bau had put Garrus on cockpit duty and Shepard into the engine room to "get a little practice working on their own." Everything had been going so well until now—the engines had hummed along peacefully, the heat sinks had discharged according to schedule, and the thrusters had been pushing them along to their destination without a glitch.

Then something happened, the alarms started blaring, the power kept dropping out and coming back on, then dropping out again, and one of the thrusters just plain stopped working. Shepard rushed from control panel to control panel, feverishly typing in commands and pushing buttons, putting out fires in one area only to have more start up somewhere else—all the while trying to ignore the turian's yelling in her ear.

"I've lost power to my console, dammit!" Garrus growled. "If you get us all killed, Shepard, I'll be very, very pissed. Get it sorted out. Now."

"I'm working on it!" she barked out as she entered in the last command line and slammed her fist onto the button to reset the electrical system. Finally, the power came back on and everything went quiet again. She collapsed onto the bench by the drive core and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Good job, Shepard," Bau's voice rang out over the comm sytem.

"Thanks." She blew out a deep breath and hoped that the rest of her shift would go without any further incident.

Fortunately, it did.

 

* * *

She went for a run on the treadmill after dinner, then locked herself in the bathroom and took a shower before she put on her sleeping shirt and shorts. She had no idea how noisy a roommate Vakarian was going to be, so she went to bed early, hoping that he wasn't going to wake her up with his snoring.

He must have been pretty quiet, because she slept through the whole night without any interruptions. By the time she opened her eyes in the morning, he was already gone.

She got dressed and brushed her hair, then trudged out to the kitchen to have breakfast. Garrus was just finishing his meal as she set about making her coffee.

"Bau said that you'll be on cockpit duty today," he informed her. "I'll be in the engine room. I'll show you how it's done," he added, flaring his mandibles in a cheeky smirk.

Shepard gave him a noncommittal grunt, and he got up to put his dishes into the dishwasher.

The role reversal was just fine with her; after the previous day's excitement she didn't mind a few quiet hours of sitting in the pilot's chair and watching the stars fly by through the large window.

Things did go well for a while. She leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, monitoring their progress along the flight path, and made adjustments to their course whenever it was necessary. The view around her was spectacular, and for a moment she wondered why she'd never paid much attention to these gorgeous colors of deep space before.

Of course, most of the time she'd be either reading or writing mission reports, talking with the crew or dealing with problems on the _Normandy;_ there really wasn't that much time just to stand around the cockpit and admire the view. But maybe she should—whenever she was going to get back to _her_ ship and _her_ crew.

She couldn't help but chuckle, though, at the thought of the exasperated glances Joker might give her if she started to hang out in his lair regularly. He didn't like backseat drivers very much, as he'd informed her a few times already.

Her fuzzy thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sudden, harsh sound of a klaxon going off in the confined space. The lights flickered wildly, her console went dark then came back on, only to flash a warning about losing thrusters and veering off course.

"Shit," she groaned as she desperately tried to get everything back online. Bau's "state-of-the-art" ship was turning more and more into a lemon.

But the worst thing was Garrus's yelling in her ear—again.

"The hell are you doing? I've just calibrated this thing to maximum performance after your little stint here yesterday!"

"Dammit, Vakarian!" she yelled back. "Why don't you pull that stick out of your ass for once! I didn't touch anything. You must have screwed up something with your _'calibrations'_."

He didn't answer, but she could hear him move around in the engineering room through her comm, cussing under his breath as he typed furiously one moment, then tore some panels open and moved a few cables around the next. All power went down for a while, then the ship came back alive with a shudder, and just like the day before, everything finally went back to normal.

Things were quiet from then on, but when the group met up for lunch a few hours later, Garrus still seemed to be fuming.

"You must have done something to the circuitry yesterday," he grumbled as he stabbed a piece of meat on his plate. "Everything was fine until you went on duty in engineering."

"I fixed whatever the problem was!" she protested. "There was nothing wrong until you started poking around there today _. 'Calibrations'_ my ass!"

"Ahem," Bau cleared his throat, calling the warring parties' attention to himself. "Actually, it was me. I sabotaged the system."

Garrus's fork froze in the air and Shepard's jaw dropped open at this new piece of information. They both stared at the Spectre as if he'd grown another set of horns.

"Why?" Shepard finally blurted out.

"It was a test. I wanted to see how well you coped if you got caught with some engine trouble and electrical problems out here in space, all alone. I'm glad to say that you both did very well."

"So the ship's been fine the whole time?" Garrus asked.

"Of course." Bau waved his hand dismissively. "I've never seen a more reliable vessel than the _Inandra."_

"Well... that's, uh, good to know," the turian ground out, his eyes darting over at Shepard for a quick glance. He did _not_ look impressed. In fact, she could have sworn that she heard a faint growl coming from his direction.

Bau, however, either didn't notice, or didn't care. He simply got up form his chair, strolled into his room, then came out with two datapads, which he distributed among his students.

"All right. Now that we're done with that, you can start studying our mission parameters."

Shepard grabbed the pad and quickly scanned the first few lines.

 

_Target: Vido Santiago, co-founder and de facto leader of the Blue Suns._

_Location: Zorya, Eldfell-Ashland Refinery._

_Objective: Free the enslaved workers and arrest Santiago._

She almost jumped up and pumped a fist in the air. Finally, a real mission. She could hardly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Tuffet37 and KabiViolet for their help and to KabiViolet for beta reading.


	3. Zorya

With its blue skies and lush vegetation, Zorya seemed deceptively pleasant at first.

Bau had landed the ship at a respectable distance from the refinery, hoping that it was far enough to avoid alerting the Blue Suns to their presence, and they'd been silently creeping along the forest path that was supposed to lead to their destination for the last twenty minutes.

The oppressive heat and the overabundance of eye-watering spores that floated freely through the air began to make progress a bit more difficult, but Shepard pushed on, periodically wiping the sweat off her forehead and blinking it out of her eyes.

Bau had taken point, relentlessly stalking through the undergrowth, with Shepard and Garrus following a few steps behind. They stopped every so often to check for security cameras or hidden guards, but had found none so far. That was good news; attempting to eliminate the mercenaries that had taken over the facility, capturing their leader, and freeing the hostages in one swell swoop was a risky operation, and the longer they could stay undetected, the better their chances were for success.

According to Bau's map, however, they were getting close enough now to come upon at least a guard or two, but everything was so quiet that Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right. The only living creatures they'd encountered until now were a few pyjaks that had scurried away upon their approach.

"I don't like this," Garrus murmured. "It's too peaceful here. I feel like we're walking into a trap."

Shepard nodded, but kept her eyes fixed ahead. "Agreed."

Bau came to a stop and brought up the interface of his omni-tool. "I can attempt to hack into their communications and see what they're up to," he said as he tapped on a few holographic keys. "There. I got it."

"Get out there and take care of them!" a voice, obviously used to giving orders that he expected to be followed without a word, bellowed in their ears as they tuned their comm channels to the frequency the Spectre had indicated. "If any of you retreat while the intruders are still alive, I'll kill you myself!"

"That's Vido Santiago," Bau said. "It appears that they know we are here."

Garrus raised his gun and scanned the area through the scope. "Nice guy."

Bau shook his head and turned off his omni-tool. "Not really. Move out and keep your eyes open."

 

* * *

They found the first bodies a few minutes later.

"These are old," Bau said as they examined the decomposing remains. "Santiago likes to leave his victims exposed to the elements as a deterrent."

"Charming," Shepard muttered under her breath.

"Not like I'd expect much from the head of a merciless gang like the Blue Suns," Garrus grunted, "but this is low. Can't wait to give this bastard what he deserves."

Bau left the corpses and started up the trail again. "First we have to get there. Let's continue."

As quiet as this forest seemed to be, the presence of the dead bodies was a clear indication that they were, indeed, in Blue Suns territory now. They cautiously pressed on, ready for an ambush at any moment, but came to an abrupt stop when the loud crack of a rifle shattered the peaceful silence. It seemed to have come from the direction they were heading, not too far from their location, and was quickly followed by the barrage of what sounded like an assortment of assault weapons and rocket launchers—and yelling. Lots of yelling.

Then, just as quickly as the battle had started, it ended, and everything fell silent again.

Bau slowly straightened up from the crouched position he'd dropped down into at the first sign of trouble. "Hmm. It appears that the guards already have a situation on their hands. This might make things a bit easier for us. Well," he added, scratching a spot above his right eye, "provided it's not an all-out assault by a rival merc band. That might actually complicate things a bit."

"It wasn't a long fight," Shepard pointed out. "It sounded more like a skirmish between two smaller groups."

Garrus loosened his tight grip on his gun, but kept it at the ready as he peered at the trail up ahead. "Or between a larger force and a small contingent. Either way, I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Indeed." Bau waved a hand at the path and they crept on, listening for any more signs of trouble, but all they could hear was the sound of leaves fluttering in the wind and pyjaks' feet skittering on the ground.

It didn't take long before they reached the site of the battle. Whoever it was that had infiltrated the Blue Suns' territory, they clearly knew what they were doing. Every single body on the ground, broken and bloodied, wore the blue-and-white armor of Vido's mercenaries, but there was no sign of the invading party.

"Impressive," Garrus said as he examined the scene. "Not one loss for the other side."

"Professionals," Bau agreed. "Clean shots to the head. Signs of biotic powers as well." He pointed at a corpse that seemed to have been ripped apart by an unknown force.

Shepard's forehead crinkled into a frown. "Eclipse, maybe?"

"We'll see." The Spectre signaled for them to move out, and they followed him down the trail.

According to the map, they were getting really close now.

 

* * *

With the guards occupied (if not outright dead), their chances of getting caught in an ambush had significantly diminished. They picked up pace, abandoning their careful approach, and arrived at the gate house in time to catch a glimpse of the mystery intruders.

The fact that they turned out to be a small, two-person team was more than a little surprising.

"That's it? Two men caused all that damage?" Garrus whispered as they inched closer.

Shepard took a careful look through her rifle's scope. "One man and one woman, actually."

"That's a woman? But she doesn't have any uh, hair."

"It's shaved off."

"And what's that... thing on her body?"

The commander shot him a perplexed glance. "Clothes?"

She was actually being generous; the woman was wearing nothing but a pair of low-riding pants and a strap around her chest, but Shepard refused to acknowledge that small detail.

"I mean that colorful thing all over her skin."

"Oh. You mean the tattoos?"

"Shh." Bau raised a closed fist as he settled down behind a large rock and waved at the two chatterboxes to get in cover and stay there—quietly, if at all possible. "That's Vido Santiago," he whispered. He pointed to a balcony on the second floor, filled with Blue Suns, their guns aimed squarely at the people below. "He's the one without the helmet; the one who's talking to the intruders."

They watched and listened as the two parties hurled insults at each other. Eventually, the man in the yellow armor took off running to the left, raising his weapon and spraying the wall behind the mercs with a volley of bullets. As soon as he was in cover, he fired off another shot, and the gas seeping out of the punctured pipe exploded with a thunderous boom, sending a few of the mercs toppling over the rail and seriously injuring the others.

"You just signed your death warrant, Massani," Santiago growled and limped off, holding his side as blood trickled out through his fingers and painted his armor red.

"Massani." Bau rolled the name around in his head. "Ah, yes. Zaeed Massani. Co-founder of the Blue Suns. Santiago tried to have him murdered when he took over the leadership. He's probably here for revenge."

Within seconds, the space inside the gatehouse erupted into chaos as both groups opened fire and Massani hammered a valve with the butt of his rifle until he set off a chain reaction of explosions that incinerated the rest of the mercs. Unfortunately, it also set the whole place on fire.

"What the hell is he doing?" Garrus grumbled as they watched the smoke fill the air and billow out through the door.

"How should I know?" Shepard shrugged. "I'm not the one with the thermal scope. I can't see a thing."

"I think they're gone," Bau said when the screams had stopped. "We'd better follow them if we want to capture Santiago before Massani kills him."

"It wouldn't exactly be a loss," Garrus murmured. Shepard couldn't help but agree.

Bau shook his head. "He needs to stand trial for his crimes." He walked through the door and into the building, and they followed him through the smoke.

 

* * *

They were going to shadow Massani and his accomplice, letting those two eliminate as many of the mercs as they were able to on their way to Santiago, then incapacitate them once they got too close to actually killing their target. Afterwards, the three of them would finish the job, capture the Blue Suns' leader, tell the workers that they were free to go, and get out of there as quickly as they could.

The plan would have worked beautifully, if not for the unfortunate fact that Massani's little stunt and the resulting explosions had ruptured the gas pipes, and by now the whole refinery was on fire.

Even _that_ might have been a negligible obstacle, especially with Garrus's thermal scope pointing the way through the flames and the thick smoke. What they hadn't counted on, however, was the workers getting trapped behind the automatically-sealed doors, unable to shut off the valves and escape the inferno.

"New variable," Bau hummed, rubbing his chin, as one of the workers that had run out onto a catwalk to beg for their help stood above them, gripping the rail and looking down with pleading eyes. "Stopping now to free these people would mean losing precious time. Santiago might get away, or Massani might execute him before we catch up. Continuing with our pursuit, on the other hand, would most certainly condemn the workers to an agonizing death. Which path would you take?"

His large eyes darted from Shepard to Garrus as he waited for their answers. The situation was unfortunate, but it provided him with an unexpected chance to assess the decision-making skills and moral compass of the candidates—something that was rather important when you considered granting nearly unlimited power to someone who might have to make similar life-and-death judgments in the future.

"Save the workers," Shepard said without hesitation.

Vakarian glanced up at the waiting man. As much as he was looking forward to capturing Santiago, sacrificing innocent lives for that satisfaction was—as far as he was concerned—out of the question. "I agree."

The Spectre gave them an approving nod. "I concur. Let's go save some lives then."

 

* * *

It took some running around in the dark, dodging the blaze and the falling debris, but eventually they managed to divert the fuel from the pipes and turn on the fire extinguishing system. With the flames sizzling out, the doors finally opened, and they watched with relief through a thick glass window as the workers fled the building.

As soon as the hostages were gone, Bau brought up his omni-tool to check his map and figure out the most likely route their adversaries might have taken while _they_ were occupied with cleaning up the mess Zaeed Massani had left behind.

"They're probably heading to the landing pad," he said, his finger tracing the path on the glowing display above his arm. "If we follow these passages, we might be able to catch up."

They set out in the direction he'd indicated, down a flight of stairs, through some rooms, and along a few short corridors. The rattle of gunfire that periodically shook the structure was a strangely reassuring sign that the battle was still raging inside. Nevertheless, there was no time to dilly-dally now, so they hurried on, ignoring the occasional dead bodies littering the ground on their way to their objective.

They finally caught up with the warring parties in the large cargo handling area that lead to the landing docks.

The room was filled with angry shouts and the ear-shattering crackle of high-caliber bullets hitting their mark or ricocheting off the containers and equipment that filled the room. Massani and his partner were vastly outnumbered, but that didn't stop them from gaining the upper hand. They obviously had a well-established system of working together, the woman pulling whole groups of mercs out of cover with her biotics and floating them through the air, and Massani picking them off with his sniper rifle, or unloading a volley of bullets into their immobilized bodies from his assault weapon.

The tattooed biotic seemed to enjoy the fight as she charged recklessly ahead, screaming something about killing them all as she hurled men, boxes and anything not bolted to the floor out of her way with her impressive powers.

"Jack!" Massani shouted as he leaped over one crate and dove behind another. "Watch your goddamn right flank!" He raised his gun and blasted an advancing merc right between the eyes before he could turn his flamethrower on the young woman, then tossed an incendiary grenade into a side corridor, setting a cluster of Blue Suns that were just about to emerge into the large room on fire.

Jack shot a glance at Zaeed over her shoulder with a feral grin, then she popped out of cover and threw another group of men straight across the room.

"How do you plan on incapacitating these maniacs?" Garrus whispered to Bau as they sneaked behind a large container in the back.

The Spectre patted his omni-tool in an almost affectionate gesture. "I have a program that could paralyze them for a few seconds—it's similar to a statis field. I just need to be close enough. If they were next to each other and I could get them at the same time, that would be even better."

They stole forward towards Massani's position. With only a few Blue Suns left, the battle appeared to be winding down, and Bau opened up his omni-tool to prepare his program. Shepard and Garrus kept an eye on the enemy, but so far none of them seemed to have noticed their presence. Their luck ran out, however, when they got too close to a merc hiding behind a low wall to their left. He snapped his head in their direction and brought up his gun to fire, but before his finger had the chance to pull the trigger, he fell backwards with a thud and a hole in his head.

"Nice shot," Garrus said. He fired off a round of his own, taking out another man that had made the unfortunate mistake of peaking out of cover.

Shepard acknowledged the compliment with a nod. "Thanks. You, too."

Massani swirled around, looking for the source of the sudden backup, and muttered a curse under his breath when he noticed the salarian aiming his omni-tool at him. He jumped up and took off towards the exit, peppering a couple of Blue Suns with his assault rifle on his way.

"Jack! Come on!" he yelled. The two of them burst through the door, leaving the few people that were still standing behind.

"That is... unfortunate," Bau murmured, switching to his sidearm.

As it turned out, that was quite an understatement. It took them less than thirty seconds to clear out the room, but before they could make their way to the door, a metallic box that had been sitting ignored in the corner until now unfolded itself into a YMIR mech. It rose up, guns at the ready, and began a steady march towards Shepard's location.

"Ah, shit. I hate these things," she groaned as she dove behind a low barrier. She tried to set up an overload, but as soon as she attempted to lean out to get a clear line of fire, it would relentlessly bombard her position, its ammunition tearing chunks of metal off the crate and sending them flying over her head.

Yep, there was definitely a well-founded reason for her hatred towards these mechanical monstrosities.

Bau, however, managed to fry the thing's shields, which Garrus followed with a precise headshot. At the telltale sound of the imminent detonation, they crouched down, covering their heads. In a few seconds the mech exploded, and finally everything fell silent.

Garrus stood up. He rested the butt of his rifle against his hip as he glanced down at Shepard. "You can come out now," he drawled, his mandibles spread wide in a grin.

"The damn thing just wouldn't leave me alone," Shepard grunted as she straightened up. "It's like it had it in for me."

"I think you hurt its feelings," Garrus smirked.

Shepard wanted to scowl at him, but she couldn't hold back a small laugh. "I guess I did."

"No time for chit-chat," Bau reprimanded them as he headed towards the door. "Let's go."

 

* * *

Vido was still alive, but just barely. He half-knelt, half-lay on the ground, bleeding, begging for his life as he stared into the barrel of the gun Massani was pointing at his head.

It was immensely gratifying to see him like this, but Zaeed had had enough. He was about to pull the trigger when the salarian and his companions ran out of the building.

"Stop!" Bau yelled. "Drop your weapon."

Zaeed raised his gun and pointed it at the group. "Who the hell are you?" Jack, who'd been standing casually by, straightened up from her slouched stance and followed his example.

Shepard and Garrus reciprocated by turning their weapons on the tattooed biotic.

"Jondum Bau. Special Tactics and Recon. This man," Bau waved a hand at Santiago, "is under arrest on Spectre authority."

"I don't give a shit about your Spectre authority," Zaeed growled. "I've waited twenty years for this."

Vido's pleading eyes darted to the salarian. Jail, he could survive. A bullet to the head—not so much. "Help me," he rasped. "Please—he's going to kill me."

The Spectre ignored him and kept his gaze on Zaeed. "I know what Santiago did to you," he said, trying to sound sympathetic. "He deserves punishment. But he also has a long list of other offenses that he has to stand trial for. I can assure you that he won't get out of jail for a very, very long time."

Zaeed's eyes narrowed into angry slits as he leaned forward. "Don't care. He needs to die."

Bau shook his head. "If you kill him, I'll be forced to arrest you for murder."

Jack let out a derisive snort. "Pfft. I'd like to see you try."

Bau went on, paying no attention to the young woman's remark. "Frankly, I should arrest you for setting the refinery on fire and endangering the lives of the workers. But if you let Santiago go, I'll allow you to leave."

Massani lowered his gun to aim it at Vido's head again. "No."

The next moment everything happened at once. Bau quickly brought up his omni-tool in an attempt to paralyze the two humans, Shepard and Garrus swung their weapons in the old merc's direction, and Jack let out a blood-curdling scream as she hurled out a powerful shockwave.

 

* * *

Things went dark for a few seconds as they were thrown back several feet. By the time they came to, Massani and Jack were gone and Santiago lay motionless on the ground.

Shepard sat up with a groan and looked around for her companions. Bau had picked himself up already and was on his way over to Vido's body, but Garrus still lay on the concrete floor behind her, stunned and unmoving. She vaguely remembered him grabbing her when they were falling, cushioning her body from the impact as they hit the ground.

She leaned over him and gently patted his cheek. "Garrus. Garrus!"

He slowly opened his eyes and blinked up at her. "Shepard. Are you all right?"

She let out a relieved chuckle. "I'm fine. Turians make surprisingly efficient buffers from hard falls. You okay?"

He flexed his hands and feet. Everything seemed to be in working order, and he carefully pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Yeah." His blue eyes darted back to Shepard as his mandibles flared into a wide grin. "Glad to be of service."

"Over here," Bau called out, waving his arm. "He's still alive."

Garrus's eyebrow plates rose up in surprise. "Tough son of a bitch."

They stood up and walked over to Santiago's bleeding body.

Bau administered some medi-gel and took a few readings with his omni-tool. "He's severely injured, but he's still breathing," he said. "We can still take him into custody."

"Or we could just leave him," Garrus rumbled.

"I've explained it already," Bau sighed. "He has to stand trial for his crimes. However," he continued, standing up, "carrying his body to the ship might not be the best choice under the circumstances. I'm going to get the _Inandra_. I think this landing pad is big enough to touch down here. You two, stay here and make sure that Massani and his friend don't come back to finish the job." He gave them a small nod and walked away.

Shepard and Garrus watched him leave, then they exchanged a sullen look and settled down for the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to KabiViolet for beta reading.


	4. A Little Help

Shepard walked over to a thick iron beam that Jack's shockwave had knocked down from the damaged building. It was scorched and rusty, but it provided a wide enough surface to sit on, so she lowered herself with a small groan and tried to get as comfortable as she possibly could. She reached inside one of her armor compartments, fished out a small nutrition bar, and tore its wrapper open.

She took a bite, chewed carefully, and swallowed the berry flavored mush before she turned her eyes on Garrus. "Would you really have left Santiago here?"

He glanced over at her. The heat sink he'd just picked up off the floor stilled in his hand as his gaze fell on the dry food she was shoving into her mouth. "Hungry already?"

She shrugged. "I have a high metabolism. As long as we have to wait here, I might as well refuel some of my energy." She pointed the remainder of the bar at him and waved it in the air disapprovingly. "But you didn't answer the question. Would you have left him here?"

His eyes drifted off into the distance as he pondered the issue for a moment. Finally, he looked back at her and cocked his head. "Since the objective was to arrest him, I suppose not. He sure would have deserved it, though. I just hate the idea of wasting resources on a bastard like him. He's almost dead anyway."

Shepard looked over at Santiago's body. His eyes were closed, but the bleeding had stopped and he appeared to still be breathing. "I know what you mean. I read his rap sheet. But there's always the possibility that he would survive, even without Bau's medi-gel. If his goons found him and nursed him back to life, he would just go back to murdering, kidnapping, and torturing people as if nothing had happened. If we take him into custody, he'll at least be put away for a long time."

Garrus shook his head as he pushed the heat sink into his rifle. "I'm not so sure about that. High-level criminals like him always have an army of high-paid lawyers at their disposal. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them was already at the docking port as soon as we arrive at the Citadel. Add a few corrupt officials into the mix, and you got yourself a case that will be contemptuous at best, and inadmissible at the worst."

"Sounds like you have some experience in that department."

"Yeah. I do."

Shepard waited for him to elaborate, but he stayed silent. He walked around the perimeter of the landing zone and scanned the surrounding area through his scope.

She finished her snack and stuffed the empty wrapper into a pocket, then stood up and strolled over to where he was standing. There was a sharp drop-off where the concrete floor ended, with rocks and dirt and dense vegetation below. "Did you see something?"

He lowered his gun and turned towards her. "No. I just have a bad feeling. I'd prefer not to get hurled across half this landing pad again." His mandibles flared out in a grin as he looked her up and down. "I don't know how much more abuse my armor can take if I have to catch you again. Especially if you keep eating like that."

"Ha. Funny." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on one leg. "You know, nobody asked you to do that. I'm perfectly capable of—"

"Shh." Garrus put up a hand and as he peered at the mountains in the distance. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She cocked her head and listened. It took her a few seconds before she began to distinguish the buzzing sound of an engine from the background noise of the wildlife in the forest. "That... can't be Bau. It's coming from the wrong direction."

"Exactly."

They looked around, trying to find some cover. The area was wide open, except for a group of smaller crates towards the door. They'd have to crouch down behind them and hope that they wouldn't be too exposed, but it had to do.

They hunkered down and watched as a gunship rose up over the mountains and approached their location. It hovered in the air for a while, seemingly searching for something, or someone, before it drew closer.

"I don't think it's Massani and his friend," Shepard said. "I'm pretty sure whoever is in that ship has noticed Santiago's body, but they're not firing on him."

"Agreed. It's probably his own people. Maybe he called in for a rescue before Massani caught up with him."

Shepard tapped on her earpiece to tune into the channel Bau had hacked into earlier. "Let's see if there's any chatter on the radio."

Garrus followed her example and winced when a loud voice boomed in his ear canal.

"Boss! Boss! You all right?"

Shepard opened up her omni-tool to prepare an overload. "Yep. Blue Suns. I think we should blow up the ship before they land."

Garrus raised his sniper rifle and zoomed in on the engines. "You read my mind."

 

* * *

With the building empty and no more enemies to worry about in the forest, it took Bau less than half the time to walk back to his ship than it had originally taken them to get to the refinery.

His decision to bring Shepard and Vakarian along on this mission had turned out to be rather fortuitous. There was no way he could have dragged Santiago's body all the way to the ship by himself, and while he didn't really expect Massani and his companion to go back and put one more bullet in the merc leader's head, he still felt better leaving his team behind to guard their prisoner.

He fired up the engines in an excellent mood and turned the _Inandra_ towards the refinery. In a few minutes the operation would be over, they would get off this planet and head to the Citadel, then Santiago would be taken into custody—all in all, this was shaping up to be an outstanding day.

He tapped on the communications button on his console and leaned back in his chair as the ship smoothly glided over the treetops. "En route now. Should be there in a couple of minutes."

"Good to hear!" Shepard's voice, urgent and out of breath, came over the speakers. "We could use some help. We're under attack and Garrus is hurt."

Bau sat up straight and leaned forward. He could hear the crackle of gunfire in the background, and it sounded like something thunderously loud had just exploded in the commander's vicinity—a rocket, perhaps?

"Shepard! Are you all right?"

There was a short pause, then more shots were fired before she answered. "I'm fine!"

Bau let out the breath that had gotten stuck in his lungs for a moment and slammed on the control panel to increase speed. "I'll be right there!"

He watched anxiously as the refinery came into view through the cockpit's window. There was definitely smoke rising from the area where he estimated the landing pad to be, though it was hard to know whether it was from the earlier blaze or from the firefight he'd just overheard.

He approached the site with shields up and the ship's weapons ready to fire, but by the time he got there, the battle appeared to be over. There was a smoldering pile of metal in the underbrush on the drop-off next to the landing zone, Santiago still lay motionless on the ground, and Shepard was administering medi-gel to Vakarian's wounds next to a mound of rubble by the door.

After circling around to make sure that there were no more enemies left to fight, Bau landed the ship and quickly disembarked.

He rushed over to his team and squatted down to check on their injuries. Their armor wore definite signs of damage, though Vakarian seemed to be worse off than Shepard. His left side was smeared with blue blood that had seeped out from a hole that had been torn in the softer material covering his waist, and there was a ragged, blood-stained gash in the joints of one of his leg guards.

Bau slid his gaze up to look into Vakarian's face. It was a little hard to know for sure with turians, but he did not seem to be in shock. "How bad is it?"

Garrus winced as Shepard spread the last layer of medi-gel over his exposed skin. "I'll live. That damned gunship took forever to go down. It had barriers _and_ shields. Thorough bastards."

Shepard closed the tube in her hand. "He has some open wounds and burns. Not sure about any internal injuries. Might be a piece of shrapnel embedded in his leg, too." She waved an arm at the rubble around them. "What little cover we had was destroyed by the gunship's rockets. After that, it was hard to avoid being hit."

Bau gave a nod and stood up. "Help him onto the ship, then come back. We have to carry Santiago's body on board. They can both get medical attention on the Citadel."

Shepard assisted Garrus as he slowly stood up, and supported his weight as much as she could while she led him to the ship, her arm around his waist and his around her shoulder. He clenched his jaws as he limped up the ramp and through the ship, but didn't say a word until he lowered himself onto a chair in the small mess hall. "Thanks."

"No problem." She pulled out another chair and lifted his leg to let him prop his foot up on it, then hurried back out to help Bau bring Santiago aboard.

 

* * *

After they'd set up an extra cot in the mess for the still-unconscious merc leader, Bau rushed to the cockpit to plot the course to the mass relay while Shepard fixed herself a cup of tea in the kitchen.

She sat down by the table, resting her elbows on its smooth surface and cradling the mug in her hands as she kept an eye on Santiago—and Vakarian. The medi-gel had stopped the bleeding in Garrus's wounds, but he was uncharacteristically quiet, and he seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes open.

"Maybe you should take your armor off and lie down," she suggested.

He'd been nodding off, but now he lifted his head to focus his gaze on her. "Still trying to get me into bed, I see. I'm flattered, but really, I'm not interested. Like I said, I'm not into humans."

His mandibles fluttered and his blue irises twinkled with amusement as she shook her head and let out a mock groan. "You wish." Her half-smirk morphed into a serious expression as she leaned forward. "Seriously, you should go to bed."

"Shepard's right," Bau said as he entered the room. "You should lie down. It'll be a couple of hours before we arrive, anyway. In fact, both of you should go and take a rest. I'll stay here and watch Santiago."

Shepard considered the Spectre's words for a few moments before she stood up and walked over to Garrus's side. "Need some help from the undesirable human?"

He let out a small chuckle and pulled himself up, holding onto the tabletop as he lowered his injured leg onto the floor. He put an arm around her shoulder to help steady himself and peered down at her with a wide grin. "As long as you don't try anything."

"Don't worry. Like I said, _I'm_ not into turians."

With Shepard's help, he slowly hobbled to the crew quarters, and gave no argument when she assisted him with removing his armor. He took off his visor and laid it on the floor under the bed, then lay down and watched as Shepard peeled off her own gear then plopped down on top of the mattress across from his.

"Hey," he drawled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

In less than thirty seconds they were both asleep.

 

* * *

Shepard's internal clock woke her up just as they were approaching the Citadel. She sat up and glanced over at Garrus. He was still asleep; in fact, it appeared that he hadn't moved at all since they'd hit the sack.

She slid out of her bed and crept closer to check if he was still breathing. He was, so she picked up her armor pieces as quietly as she could, and sneaked out of the room.

"Ah, Commander," Bau said when she entered the mess. "Glad to see you're awake. We're docking in about ten minutes. I have to go to the cockpit to handle the procedure; if Vakarian wakes up in the meantime, please tell him that a doctor is already at the docking port and will come on board to take a look at his injuries. I've also requested a stretcher and some C-Sec guards to take Santiago to a secure ward at Huerta Memorial. Hopefully Vakarian can be treated here and he won't have to go to the hospital, too, but I suppose we'll find out soon."

Shepard nodded in acknowledgement and watched as Bau left the room, then she sat down at the table and brought up her omni-tool to check for new messages. There were a few; one from Ashley, asking her if she'd kicked some butt yet; one from Kaidan, wishing her good luck on her first mission with the Spectre; and one from Conrad Verner, the creepy stalker she'd somehow managed to pick up after it had been announced that she was going to be the first human Spectre candidate. She deleted the message from Conrad without reading it, and was about to begin typing an answer to Ashley when the door to the crew quarters slid open and Vakarian staggered out in his scorched and bloody armor.

"I think you should have kept your armor off," Shepard said as she watched him limp over to the kitchen sink to get some water. "A doctor will have to examine you anyway."

He turned in her direction and gave her a disapproving grunt. "I'm not going to walk through the entire station in my undersuit."

"You won't have to. Bau has arranged for a doctor to come on board as soon as we dock. Which should be any minute now."

He gulped down the water and put the cup in the sink before he made his way to the table and gingerly sat down. "That's, uh, good."

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Yeah. At least I won't have to haul your ass all the way to the hospital. Unless, of course, you need more treatment. In which case maybe you could share the stretcher with Santiago that they're bringing in for him."

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, thanks. I'd rather limp there myself if I have to."

They spent the rest of the trip in comfortable silence, until the _Inandra_ docked and the little entourage that had been waiting for their arrival came on board.

"This way," they heard Bau say over the noise of the heavy footsteps as the group approached the mess.

The first person to appear was a red-haired human woman with a doctor's bag in her hands. Her green eyes opened wide as her gaze fell on Garrus and his blood-stained armor, and she rushed over to his side without hesitation. "Garrus! Are you all right? I didn't know it was you who was injured!"

"Dr. Michel." Garrus nodded his head in greeting, and bit down a groan as she lifted his arm to take a better look at the wound on his torso. "Nice to see you."

Dr. Michel's face lit up. "Oh, it's nice to see you, too. I just wish it was under better circumstances." Her cheeks flushed deep red and her eyelashes fluttered nervously as she gave him a timid smile. "My offer still stands, you know. Maybe when you're better and not so busy, we could—"

Garrus let out an awkward cough. "Well, I'm not really on the Citadel nowadays, so..."

He wasn't sure why, but he shot a quick glance over at Shepard. Her eyebrows had risen higher on her forehead than he'd ever thought possible and her jaw hung slightly open, but she closed her mouth now with a quiet snap and her lips curled into a smirk as she caught his gaze. Her cheery expression did nothing to quell the cold dread that began to settle in his gut; there was no doubt in his mind that as soon as she had the chance, he was in for a relentless round of teasing. Great. Just great.

Dr. Michel, oblivious to Garrus's discomfort and the unspoken words between him and the woman at the table, stepped back and gestured at the door that led to the crew quarters. "Is that the sleeping area? I could examine you there in privacy."

He tried to ignore Shepard's snicker as Chloe Michel grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the room, and followed the doctor with a defeated sigh.

Spirits help him, he was definitely in for some scathing remarks later.

 

* * *

"How's Detective Vakarian?" Bau asked when the door slid open and Dr. Michel finally re-emerged. The nurses that had come with her had already checked Santiago's life signs, determined that it was safe to transport him, and transferred him onto the stretcher. Everybody'd been just waiting for her to depart.

"He'll be fine," she replied with a small smile. "I treated his wounds and removed a piece of shrapnel from his leg. There are no signs of any internal injuries, but he still needs to rest for a couple of days. I gave him some medication that he has to take every four hours to prevent infection and to lessen the pain. Please don't hesitate to contact me if there are any problems or concerns."

She walked over to the stretcher and looked down at the prisoner. "Is he ready to go?"

"Yes, he is," Bau announced before anybody else could get in a word. "Commander," he said, turning to Shepard, "I'm going with them to make certain that everything goes as it should. Please let Detective Vakarian know that if he wants to order a new set of undersuit or any armor replacements, he should do so immediately. The same goes for you." He handed her a credit chit that he'd loaded up with a respectable amount from his Spectre funds. "Request urgent delivery; I'll have to give my report to the Council, but afterwards, we'll be departing for Omega to take care of some business there."

Shepard gave him a nod. "Understood, Spectre."

"Good. Let's go."

The group filed out, leaving Shepard alone in the mess. She glanced at the bedroom door, but it stayed shut, so she got up and strolled into the crew quarters.

She found Garrus sitting on his bed in his underarmor. He glanced up as she stopped by the lockers and leaned against the metal surface, folding her arms in front of her chest and studying his state of undress with that infuriating smirk on her face.

"So," she started, "your girlfriend seems pretty nice."

He groaned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. "She's not my girlfriend. I told you, I'm not—"

"Into humans. Riiight."

He shook his head and stood up, mirroring her stance as he leaned against the bunk bed's post. "Well," he drawled, "I can't help it if she finds me so irresistible. Apparently, all humans do." His mandibles flared out into a toothy grin and he chuckled along with her when she rolled her eyes.

"Sure. Just keep telling that to yourself if it makes you feel better." She pushed away from the lockers and held out her hand with the credit chit in it. "Here. Bau said to order any replacement undersuit or armor you need. Request urgent delivery, because we'll leave pretty soon."

He took the chit and examined it. It was for a generous amount; more than enough for everything he might need. "Where are we going?"

"Omega."

"Why?"

"No idea. But I bet it'll be interesting."

She gave him a wink and left the room. She needed a shower and a meal; if Omega was going to be as eventful as Zorya had been, she definitely needed plenty of energy for the trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to KabiViolet for beta reading!


	5. Flexibility

Bau didn't come back to the ship for several hours.

By the time he finally boarded the _Inandra_ , the Citadel was well into its night cycle. His mind was still swirling around the last few hours' events as he locked the hatch behind him, then headed down the corridor to the galley for a late meal. It was the voices of his team that brought his attention back to the present; by the sound of it, they were comparing notes about missions they'd been part of in their respective careers, trying to top each other's stories with more and more outrageous tales of survival.

He stepped into the small mess just as Shepard was describing a fight with a thresher maw—on foot, no less. She was sitting at the table across from Vakarian, pieces of their weapons neatly spread out between them as they wiped their equipment clean.

"Ah, Commander Shepard, Detective Vakarian," Bau greeted them with a nod. "Glad to see you're still up."

The oily rag came to a halt in Shepard's hand as she looked up from her gun. "Spectre. Did everything go well?"

Bau strolled over to the kitchen counter and leaned against it, crossing his arms in front of his narrow chest. "Basically, yes. Not as well as I had hoped, though."

Garrus cocked his head to the side as he studied the Spectre's dour expression. "Complications?"

"A few, but nothing that couldn't be handled." His large eyes closed for a moment, and he took a deep, calming breath before he continued. "Santiago has gone through emergency surgery. His condition is stable, but he's still in a coma. He's under guard at Huerta Memorial—despite his lawyer's objections."

Shepard's eyes darted over to Garrus. He gave her a pointed look, but stayed silent, so she turned her attention back to the Spectre. "His lawyer?"

"Yes. He showed up as soon as Santiago was admitted to the hospital. He tried to convince the medical staff that his client would get better care at the human clinic in Shalta Ward."

Garrus let out an annoyed snort. "That place would be impossible to secure. We might as well have handed him back to the Blue Suns."

"No doubt that was the goal." Bau rolled his neck, trying to loosen the tense muscles in his shoulder. He hadn't realized until now how much the stiff posture he'd adopted during the intense debate had tightened up his entire body. He let out a long exhale through his nostrils as he chased away thoughts of a nice, hot shower and that leftover bowl of soup he'd promised his empty stomach on the way back to the ship. As tempting as a little food and a relaxing shower seemed at the moment, there were things they needed to discuss first.

"Mr. Carson also filed several complaints about the arrest and myself," he went on. "According to him, his client is innocent of all charges and was only targeted out of some kind of anti-human agenda on my part. He also made an allegation that I'd set the refinery on fire to kill as many people as I could and it was my excessive use of force during the capture that resulted in Santiago's life-threatening injuries. He even got the human ambassador involved, who submitted a formal protest to the Council. I spent hours going through the legal documents and putting together my case files, and I still need to collect all the data from the records of our mission for the official hearing that's going to take place tomorrow morning."

Garrus narrowed his eyes. It was exactly this kind of bullshit that made him want to leave C-Sec and become a Spectre. To hear that even _they_ weren't immune to politics and red tape was less than encouraging. "I thought Spectres were above the law."

"To a certain point, yes. However, the Council still has to investigate if there's any suspicion of gross misconduct on a Spectre's part."

Shepard shook her head. "But why would Udina take up Santiago's case at all?" As big a dick as the ambassador was, his public support for a known criminal didn't make any sense.

"Vido Santiago has an extended family that has become enormously rich and powerful in the last few years—no doubt thanks to his illicit activities. Their influence reaches through all levels of business and politics; I can only guess that Mr. Udina has been pressured either by them or by somebody connected to them to put in a word for Santiago." The Spectre tapped his chin with a long finger as he contemplated the issue. "I don't think he'll be a problem, though. He wouldn't want to risk his career for a criminal like Vido Santiago. I'm quite certain that his protest was just for show—to fulfill whatever obligation he had to that mystery person. But," he said, pushing away from the counter," we'll find out soon enough. The hearing will be at oh-nine-hundred hours during the next day cycle where the two of you will have to testify about the events on Zorya. We should be able to leave for Omega after that."

He walked over to the fridge, leaving Shepard and Vakarian to their own thoughts, and pulled out the bowl of food with a satisfied sniff. It wasn't exactly restaurant quality fair, but after the day he'd gone through, he would have eaten anything that looked mildly digestible. Even his idiot cousin's cooking.

Well. Maybe not _that_.

 

* * *

With the trip to Omega aborted for the day, Shepard and Garrus finished cleaning their weapons in silence, then, as if on cue, they both got up and retreated to the crew quarters to get ready for bed.

She hadn't even noticed how exhausted she was until her gaze fell on her bunk. Now, all she could think about was stripping down to her underwear, not even bothering with changing into her sleeping shirt and shorts in the bathroom (she was pretty sure Bau was taking a shower there at the moment anyway), and falling into bed.

Walking over to the back of the room, she peeled off her light jacket and draped it over one of the chairs, then bent down, legs straight and torso curved in a graceful arc, to release the seals on her boots. She kicked them off, then undid the belt and the zipper on her pants and began shimmying out of them, bending in half once more to push them all the way down.

She was about to drop her neatly folded trousers on the seat of the chair when she heard a strange, strangled noise coming from behind.

She twisted around and caught Garrus's astonished gaze just before he quickly looked away. He was sitting on his mattress, just a few feet away from her, his mandibles fluttering in an expression that she wasn't familiar with as he went back to the task of removing his own footwear.

"What?" she asked, turning her whole body towards him now.

"Hmm?" he asked back. "Nothing."

It didn't escape her attention that he seemed to be avoiding her eyes. Something told her to leave it alone, but the scene was too intriguing to obey that inner voice. " _What_?" she asked again, a bit more forcefully this time.

He finally looked up. His mandibles fluttered again; had it been anybody else but cocky Garrus Vakarian, she would have sworn that he looked embarrassed. "Are all humans so, uh, flexible?"

She stared at him for a moment before her lips pulled into a wide grin. "Turians aren't?"

He shook his head and looked away from her as he pulled off his boots and shoved them under his bed.

Her eyes slid down to his feet. She tried not to stare, but, even covered by a pair of thick socks, they were so different from a human's that she found it nearly impossible to resist the temptation. She had some gloating to do, however, so she forced herself to stop gawking. "I guess there are some things we're just better at. Don't let it bother you too much."

He let out a snort, and his mandibles flared into a toothy smirk as his blue eyes traveled up her body. "You might have flexibility, but we have reach."

She shrugged and turned back to the chair. "That's not exactly hard to do, given your height and the length of your limbs."

She set her pants down, then, balancing on one foot at a time, pulled off her socks and threw them in her laundry bag. Her bra still had to go, but—human fetish or not—she was not about to give an even bigger show to Vakarian than she already had, so she reached behind her back and undid the clasps through the fabric of her undershirt. Snaking a hand up one sleeve, she took hold of the strap and pulled it off her arm, then she repeated the maneuver on the other side, and finally yanked the whole thing out from under her shirt through the sleeve.

Bau kept the ship warm enough, but still, barefoot and dressed only in her undershirt and panties, her skin started to pebble with goose bumps, so she threw the bra on top of her folded pants and hurried to her bed to slide under the covers.

A glance over at Garrus confirmed her suspicion: he'd been watching her again with that strange expression on his face. "What now?" she asked with a sigh as she pulled the blanket up to her ear.

He shook his head, as if to clear his mind of some mental image, before he spoke. "Just wondering if you're, uh, decorated like that other human woman."

Shepard's eyebrows pulled together into a confused frown. "What?"

"That biotic woman on Zorya. She had all those colorful patterns on her skin."

She raised her torso up onto an elbow, ignoring the cool air as the blanket fell away from her chest. "Do I look like I'm tattooed all over like that maniac?"

He cocked his head as he studied the expanse of skin exposed to his scrutiny. "I don't know. I haven't seen you naked."

"And you never will."

He laughed and stood up just long enough to lift up his blanket, then he climbed into bed and covered himself from chin to toe.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "What, you're not taking off your new undersuit?"

"No, it's too cold in here for that."

She hadn't really thought about it before, but now she couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed. He'd had his fun watching her undress; it was only fair that she got a little peak at his body as well.

That thought, however, didn't irritate her half as much as the sudden realization of who exactly it was she was so anxious to ogle.

She squeezed her eyes shut and bit into her lower lip to stifle an annoyed groan. No. She was _not_ a xenophiliac pervert; it didn't matter what Vakarian looked like beneath his undersuit.

She cleared her throat and peered over at him, trying to school her features into a neutral expression. "So... How are your wounds?" she asked, attempting to divert her brain from those stupid, unwelcome ideas.

"Much better. I'm sure things will be totally fine by tomorrow."

"That's uh, good. Well, goodnight, Garrus."

"Goodnight, Shepard."

He called out to the computer to turn off the lights, and the room fell into darkness.

Shepard turned over onto her other side, closed her eyes, and despite her racing thoughts, she went to sleep within a few seconds.

 

* * *

The hearing went much faster than Shepard had anticipated.

Bau presented his case, calling up charts, surveillance images, and documents on the holo projector in the middle of the room, and the councilors listened attentively, barely asking any questions other than whether Shepard and Garrus agreed with the Spectre's description of the events on Zorya. Udina made a half-hearted attempt to question the arrest's legality and complain about Bau's alleged anti-human bias, which the Councilors unanimously rejected, and less than fifteen minutes after it had started, the hearing ended with the Council upholding the Spectre's judgment in the case and approving Santiago's arrest and future punishment.

Just as Bau had predicted, Udina didn't seem to be too upset about the ruling. In fact, he gave their group an appeasing nod before he turned on his heel and left the room.

"Good," Bau said, tapping on his omni-tool's interface to close down his presentation files. "Now we can—" His hand froze in the air as an urgent message flashed up on the screen, and his facial muscles hardened into a frown as he studied the text. "Hmm," he muttered to himself, "Miss Goto, what are you up to?"

Shepard watched in fascination as he began to type furiously, his fingers flying over the holographic keyboard like a pack of hungry birds fighting for a few morsels on the ground, before he finally closed the program and dropped his arm.

"Problem?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not anymore. My most elusive target has just tried to hack into my files and erase all information I've gathered about her, but I managed to block all access.

At least for now," he added with a dark look. "However, I must pay a quick visit to my apartment and check my personal terminal there to make sure that it has not been compromised. Maybe set up a few more encryption protocols. I'll see you back on the ship in about an hour."

He gave his team a small nod, then hurried away without so much as a backward glance.

As soon as he was gone, Garrus peered down at Shepard, his mandibles widening into a smile. "Well, see you later, Shepard."

"You not coming back to the ship?"

He shook his head as he turned around to walk away. "Not yet. I have something to do first."

"Going to see your doctor girlfriend, huh?" she called after him with a snicker.

He threw a grin at her over his shoulder, but did not stop. "Jealous?"

"Pfft. Don't be ridiculous."

He chuckled and continued on his way, and she watched him stroll down the stairs, her eyes raking over his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Jealous? Her? Well... maybe just a little.

 

* * *

After a quick (and disappointing) visit to Rodam Expeditions, Shepard took a rapid transit cab to the docking port and boarded the _Inandra._

The ship was empty and boring without Bau and Vakarian, so she settled down in the small mess, put her feet up on the chair across from hers, and pulled up the game she'd purchased for her omni-tool from the enthusiastic salarian game shop clerk in Zakera Ward.

It was an old human game that she was quite familiar with, but hadn't played in quite a long time—the perfect entertainment to help while away the empty hours that long missions in space tended to come with.

Moving the cards from pile to pile was a mindless, though quite enjoyable (and addictive) task, and she got so absorbed in trying to win at least once that she almost didn't hear when Vakarian came on board.

She kept playing even as his heavy footsteps thudded closer and closer, and merely greeted him with a grunt when he finally entered the room. She kept her eyes focused on the display until a three-fingered hand moved into her field of vision and put a box on the table in front of her.

Her gaze drifted to the black box with the red and orange letters, and for a few moments all she could do was stare at it with her mouth agape.

It was an MX-117.

She shut the game off and ran her fingers along the smooth edges of the container. "Where... Where did you get this?"

"There's a salarian shopkeeper on the Presidium Commons that likes to acquire rare weapons and mods, then sell them to his VIP customers—for an inflated price, of course. It's all very hush-hush and under the table. All he needed, though, was a little _friendly persuasion_ to convince him to sell this to me at the original price."

She finally tore her gaze away from her treasure to look up into his smiling eyes. "Thank you. I can pay—"

He held up a hand and shook his head. "Bau's credit chit covered it all." He sat down on the chair next to hers and flared his mandibles into that cocky grin she'd become so familiar with. "And you're welcome. So, what were you doing?"

She followed his gaze to her omni-tool, and turned the game back on with a grin of her own. "Solitaire. Wanna learn how to play?"

"Sure."

When Bau boarded the ship half an hour later, he found the two of them still huddled together, with Shepard's arm resting on the table, her omni-tool's screen hovering brightly in the air, and Garrus's fingers moving piles of cards on the display like an old card shark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to KabiViolet for beta reading.


	6. Old Friends

Omega didn't have the reputation of being one of the most unpleasant places in the galaxy for nothing; it was as dark, smelly, and generally depressing as they'd all expected.

Still, hearing about the overwhelming misery that permeated just about every square inch of the station was one thing; actually experiencing it first hand as they marched through the run-down passages that led to their destination was quite another.

"Your friend... lives here?" Garrus grumbled as they passed by yet another group of unlucky residents huddling around a pile of burning trash to keep warm. The intonation in his dual-toned voice made it clear, even to non-turian ears, what he really meant by that question: Bau's friend must have been either mad, or hopelessly down on his luck to call a wretched place like this home.

The Spectre gave a small shrug, but kept on walking. "He came here to help people," he said without any further elaboration, though he knew all too well what the young turian was thinking. Personally, he'd always believed that his old associate's talents should have been put to better use elsewhere, but he'd stopped wasting his breath about the issue a long time ago.

Garrus's brow plates tensed into a scowl as he stepped around an emaciated and sickly batarian sitting on the floor, clutching his meager belongings to his chest. "They sure need help," he murmured.

"Indeed." Bau brought up his omni-tool's interface to check his map. He pointed down a set of stairs on their right. "This way. We're almost there."

They descended the stairs, walked down a corridor, then another, and finally strolled through the doors of the Omega Clinic.

The place was definitely cleaner and better lit than any other parts of the station they'd seen before. Better smelling, too, if you didn't mind the odor of disinfectant and medi-gel wafting through the air.

"Can I help you?" a young human woman, standing behind a desk with a datapad in her hand, called out when they entered the lobby. Her gaze slid from their faces to their weapons, but, to her credit, she didn't seem to be fazed by the small arsenal they carried on their backs.

Bau gave her a slight tilt of his head in greeting. "We're looking for Mordin Solus. Is he here?"

"Who's asking?"

"Bau. Jondum Bau. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

"Ah, Spectre Bau. Professor Solus has been expecting you." The woman waved the pad in the direction of a hallway that lead further inside. "He's in the back. He's a bit busy at the moment, though. You can wait here until he's done and I'll call him—"

Bau was halfway down the corridor before she could finish her sentence. "That's all right. We'll find him."

They forged ahead, weaving through carts and patients and nurses, until they reached the last room at the end of the hallway and found a salarian with a broken horn inside. His fingers were dancing delicately over a holo image above his omni-tool as he gave a rapid-fire explanation about brain injuries and burnt-out neurons to a weeping human woman that stood with hunched shoulders by his side.

The woman wiped her eyes and sniffed as she forced herself to look at the medical scan that shimmered brightly in the air. "The medics said it was brain hemorrhage, but I knew she was murdered. My poor Nef. My baby..."

"Brain hemorrhage, yes. However, other symptoms, too. Utter destruction of all neural pathways in extremely short amount of time. Not natural. Never seen anything like this." The salarian's eyelids fluttered for a moment as he switched off his omni-tool and refocused his gaze on the grieving mother. "Need to investigate further. Come back tomorrow for results of analysis." His voice dropped lower and he gave her a sympathetic little bow. "My condolences."

"Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate... everything. You're the only one that cares."

She turned around and shuffled out, shoulders slumped and arms wrapped tightly around herself. The group in the doorway parted respectfully to allow her passage, and she walked out, head hung and eyes glued to the patterns in the metallic floor underneath her feet.

The doctor's watchful gaze shifted from the back of the woman to the small crowd standing in the corridor and he waved a hand, inviting them in. "Ah, Jondum. Thanks for coming."

"Professor. It's good to see you. These are my protégés; Officer Garrus Vakarian and Commander Jane Shepard."

Mordin Solus tapped his chin with a long, slender finger as he studied the two strangers. "Protégés? Spectre candidates? Two at the same time? Highly unusual. Never heard of dual training before. Different species, too. Must have special reason—"

Bau ignored the doctor's monologue and nudged his head at the doorway through which the woman had disappeared. "Murder? Sounded perplexing."

Professor Solus took a long inhale through his nostrils. "Ah, yes. Human female. Possibly accident. More likely murder. Very strange case." He pulled up the medical scans again and began to describe, in equally enthusiastic and agonizing detail, the results of the autopsy he had performed on the victim.

Garrus tried to follow his explanation, and got as far as "complete destruction of the nervous system, starting with a devastating overload of all brain functions that lead to instant death after a night out with an unknown asari", but soon got lost in all the medical jargon and his attention started to drift. His gaze wandered around the room, examining the medical equipment and boxes of supplies that littered every available surface in the small space, before it found its way back to the group and settled on his teammate standing off to the side.

He had to pull his mandibles tight into his face to hold back the amused chuckle that desperately wanted to escape the back of his throat at her sight; she stood there with arms folded, hip cocked, and eyes glazed over as she pretended to listen to the two salarians' discussion about the cells, neurons, and fascinating functions of the brain. Apparently he had more in common with this human than a love of sniper rifles and expensive mods: she seemed to have about the same amount of patience and attention span he himself did when it came to absorbing scientific lectures of this kind.

Shepard's mind was obviously somewhere else, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about. Was she considering paying a visit to the shops they'd passed by on their way to the clinic? Was she hoping to buy a model ship for her collection she'd told him about? It was rather funny, imagining the Hero of the Skyllian Blitz, fearless soldier and indomitable commander, sitting at a table and gluing together tiny pieces of metal and plastic, like a child building toy shuttles after schoolwork was done. He had teased her relentlessly about her little hobby when she'd let it slip during one of their conversations, but the truth of the matter was that he would have loved to see her, with all those nimble fingers, work her magic and create a miniature cruiser or dreadnought out of all those small parts.

Maybe they could check out that market when they were done here...

His gaze snapped back to the professor's display when he opened up another scan. This one was no longer that of a human skull; from the shape of the torso, it was quite obvious the subject of this particular image was a turian. Garrus didn't have to be a medical expert to realize that something in that picture was not quite right. The anomaly that caught his attention was achingly familiar; it was something he'd seen before—some time ago.

"My assistant, Daniel brought him in," Professor Solus was saying. "Patient was unconscious, bleeding. Found him not far from clinic. Examination showed no sign of outside trauma. No bruises, no fresh bullet wounds. However, discovered several surgical incisions. Did some scans. Found this." He pointed at a dark mass in the picture that lay close to what looked like a liver. "And this. And this." He gestured at a few other dark spots.

"Extra body parts," Garrus growled.

The doctor swirled around to face him. "Familiar with issue?"

Garrus slowly nodded his head. He had to take a deep breath and tamp down the rage that still, after all this time, rose faithfully in his gut at the memory of that wretched monster. "Had a case like this on the Citadel. Salarian geneticist—Dr. Saleon. Used his employees to grow extra organs inside their own bodies. When the organs didn't develop correctly, he would just leave them in. It caused infections, bleeding, necrosis—you name it."

Shepard's jaws dropped and her eyebrows shot up high on her forehead. "You're kidding. What happened? Did you catch him?"

Garrus's talons tightened into an angry fist. "No. He fled before we could arrest him. He took all his employees and ran. I wanted to shoot his ship down, but C-Sec brass didn't let me. 'Too dangerous', they said. 'Too close to the Citadel.'"

Mordin gave a thoughtful nod. "Could be same person. Different name, though. Dr. Heart." Garrus gave a disdainful snort, but Mordin ignored him. "Patient didn't want to talk, but asked around, did some research. Found out salarian doctor recruited desperate people from slums. Paid them small amount of credits for harvested organs." He took a deep inhale and closed his eyelids for a moment. "Omega perfect place to take advantage of the poor. Despicable."

Bau folded his arms in front of his narrow chest and shook his head. "He needs to be stopped."

"Yes. That's why your assistance was requested." The professor turned off the X-ray image and pulled up a map of the station. "Found doctor's base. Kenzo District, Section B12. Went to take a look; confront doctor. Saw too many krogan bodyguards. Didn't fancy getting killed. Was about to go back with LOKI mechs, but doing mission with your team works out even better. Higher chance of success."

"Wise choice," Garrus said. "No offense, Professor, but you might want to stay here and leave it to us. I'm familiar with his security forces. They mean business."

Mordin took an indignant sniff of air through his nostrils. "Not helpless. Know how to handle a gun."

"Professor Solus is an ex-STG agent," Bau interjected. "Highly trained, and very capable."

Shepard's eyes went wide as she looked the doctor up and down. "I'll be darned."

"Oh." Garrus shot the salarian a sheepish look. "My apologies."

"No need. Most people assume I'm harmless. Actually, better this way. Never see me coming." Mordin gave a sly little chuckle, then turned his attention back to the map. "Could take a shuttle this evening, surprise enemy. Eliminate bodyguards, capture doctor. Bring him to justice." His head tilted to the side as he considered his plan for a second. "Or kill him. Either way works."

 

* * *

If there was one good thing to say about Omega, it was that nobody batted an eye when their strange little group, heavily armed and deadly serious, stalked up to the entrance of "Dr. Heart's Health Center" and burst through its doors.

They found the lobby empty—no bodyguards, no receptionist, not even one half-dead patient sitting on a chair, waiting for his turn to be called into the inner office. The silence was more than disconcerting, and they pushed on cautiously, shields up and guns drawn, ready for anything they might encounter as they made their way further inside.

Every room they walked through, however, was empty, not only of personnel and guards, but of any movable furnishings and medical apparatus as well.

A cold dread began to settle in Garrus's gut as they continued their search. That bastard had run again. No doubt he'd found out about Solus's investigation and his STG background; he might have been informed about Bau's impending arrival to help out his old friend as well. He took his guards, his employees, and his equipment, and got off the station as quickly as he could—just like last time. Who knew where he was by now.

"Clear," Shepard announced when they reached the last room and, predictably, found absolutely no one inside.

The professor lowered his gun and scratched the back of his neck. "Hmm. Looks like we're too late. Unfortunate."

Garrus grunted in disgust. "Unfortunate"didn't even begin to describe the way he felt about the situation. That monster was on the loose again, and there was nothing he could do about it. Unless...

"I still have the transponder code for his old ship," he said, casting a hopeful eye at the Spectre. "Could we track him down through that?"

Bau had been tapping away at a computer console that was firmly attached to a built-in desk and, consequently, left behind. He'd been downloading some heavily encrypted files to his omni-tool for further analysis, but his finger froze in the air now as he looked up at the turian. "Maybe. Forward it to me, and once we're back on board, I'll start a search. Let me just finish extracting these files before we go."

He went back to his hacking attempts but stopped again when Shepard held up a fist. "Shh. I think I heard something."

She stalked to the open door and peered outside into the corridor.

It was empty.

She stood motionless, listening intently. The only thing she could hear now was her own breathing, and for a moment she wondered if she'd been imagining things—until her ears picked up a shuffling noise once again, from somewhere further down the hall.

She stepped out of the room and raised her sniper rifle to her eye to scan the area through the thermal scope. Her heart thudded in her chest and a familiar wave of adrenaline surged through her veins when a figure glowed bright red around the corner, slowly sneaking past the intersection, a gun held expertly in its hands. The body shape was instantly recognizable even through several inches of concrete. It was big. It was bulky.

It was a krogan.

She motioned for the team to turn on their earpieces. "We have company," she said softly. "Could be one of the guards. We might be able to get some information out of him."

The others nodded in acknowledgement, and they followed her down the corridor as she crept along the wall towards the intersection.

She peeked around the corner, and waited for the krogan to disappear into one of the rooms. Once he was out of sight, they advanced quietly to the door. "Garrus," she whispered, "take down his shields and I'll try to throw him against the wall."

At his nod, they stepped inside. The room filled with a thunderous boom as the krogan's shields exploded and he stumbled backwards, crashing into a built-in cabinet. He landed with a heavy thud, his large, crested head hanging down for a moment over his chest as he lay, dazed, in the pile of rubble.

He took a shuddering breath, rolled his neck, and looked up into the barrels of four guns aimed right at his head. His red eyes blinked as his gaze slid from a turian to a salarian, then to a human and another salarian, then back to the human again.

"Shepard," he groaned.

She lowered her gun as she stared, slack-jawed, at the large form still lying on the floor. "Wrex? The hell are you doing here?"

Bau glanced at the commander, but kept his pistol pointed at the prone krogan. "You know him?"

"Yes. This is Urdnot Wrex. We met on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Fought side by side for a while but got separated."

"And then she got all the credit," Wrex grunted as he slowly pulled himself up.

Shepard let out a throaty laugh. "Not my fault that you ran off and got trapped behind enemy lines." She grabbed his arm and squeezed it tight, and he returned the gesture with a toothy grin. "Good to see you. But really, what are you doing here?"

"Contract work. Looking for someone. Dr. Heart." He glanced at the two salarians and leaned a little closer to the commander. "Which one is it?"

Shepard shook her head. "Neither. This is Jondum Bau and Mordin Solus." She waved a hand at her turian teammate. "And this is Garrus Vakarian. We came here looking for that bastard ourselves, but apparently he ran when he found out that people were after him."

"Dammit." Wrex put away his gun. The others did the same. "Any idea where he's gone?"

"Not yet." Shepard folded her arms in front of her chest as she eyed the red-crested krogan. "He has a bounty on his head?"

Wrex grunted. "Yeah. My client wasn't happy with the merchandise. Spent forty thousand credits on the stuff and it didn't work."

Shepard made a whistling sound. "Forty thousand credits?"

"Yeah. For a full set."

"A full set of what?"

"Krogan testicles."

Shepard bit into her lower lip to stifle the undignified chortle that bubbled up in her chest. "Okay."

"Some krogan think they can cure the genophage," Garrus pointed out.

The commander's face heated up with an embarrassed flush. This... wasn't funny after all. "Oh."

"He's preying on people," Mordin said. "We have to stop him."

Wrex gave an indifferent shrug. "Whatever. I just want to kill him."

Bau tilted his head as he studied the large krogan. He might be useful for this mission. Their target was a slippery criminal, who apparently had enough men and resources to move his operation at a moment's notice. It was a matter of numbers, really: The more capable fighters they had on their team, the better their chances for success were. Maybe they could work together to accomplish their goal—if the krogan was willing to cooperate.

"We could join forces," the Spectre finally said. "Increase our chances."

Wrex glanced at Shepard. She was a ferocious and indomitable warrior—the best he'd seen in a very, very long time. If her associates were half as good as she was, then, well... this might just work. "Fine." He gave a solemn nod.

Shepard's lips curled into an excited grin, and she clapped him on the shoulder with unbridled enthusiasm.

"Welcome to the team, Wrex. This will be fun. Just like old times."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little late. I didn't have as much time to write as I would have liked, and a bad case of writer's block didn't help either. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, though. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Tuffet37 and KabiViolet for their help with this chapter, and to KabiViolet for beta reading.


	7. Layover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is so late. I've been having a lot of health problems, and had to spend several weeks in bed—which made it pretty hard to get creative and write, especially since I wasn't able to use my computer. I'm still not 100% back to normal, but I really wanted to go on with this story for you guys. I hope you'll like this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you to KabiViolet for beta reading.

Despite his occasional outbursts about the red tape, bureaucracy, and insane rules that plagued his working life on the Citadel, or the idiocy and astounding incompetency of some of his coworkers, Garrus liked to think that when it came to his job, he was a fairly patient man.

He had no problem lying in cover as long as was necessary, right eye glued to the scope of his sniper rifle, waiting for the perfect moment to pull the trigger, or watching a target in his skycar for hours on end, silent and unmoving, during a stake-out. Right now, however, he found it nearly impossible not to fidget constantly as he sat in the mess hall, mandibles twitching and fingers drumming out a restless beat on the table's smooth surface, while Bau tapped away on his computer in search of the transponder code that Garrus had sent to his omni-tool.

Their new teammate's presence on the ship didn't exactly help smooth Garrus's mood either.

He'd had more than enough experience with bounty hunters—and krogans in general—on the Citadel to be less than enthusiastic about the old battlemaster's inclusion in this mission. As far as he was concerned, Wrex's kind tended to be unpredictable and hard to control, and that was not something they needed right now. Not when they finally had a chance to track down Dr. Saleon and take him out, once and for all. If that krogan did something to jeopardize his chances of finally getting the one criminal that had managed to get away—well, he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do.

His head jerked up in frustration at the sound of Urdnot Wrex's heavy footsteps and the bubbling laughter of the human commander as they approached the kitchen from the corridor. He had no idea what Shepard saw in the scar-faced krogan. Sure, they were connected by the kind of special bond that tended to develop between comrades-in-arms during a harrowing experience, but their relationship seemed to go beyond that: she appeared to genuinely enjoy her old acquaintance's company.

For some reason he couldn't quite explain, it really pissed Garrus off.

He got up with an annoyed groan and stalked over to the cooling unit to fetch himself a bottle of water. He tried to ignore the pair when they entered the kitchen, but it was not an easy task, considering how they kept blabbing on and on about one thing or another.

"You don't have to sleep in that storage room, you know," Shepard said as she stopped by the counter and leaned a hip against it. "There are plenty of free beds in the crew quarters."

Garrus almost moaned out loud. The last thing he needed was for the krogan to move into _their_ room. Why did Shepard have to be so pushy? If Urdnot Wrex chose to set himself up on the lower deck, that was just fine; no need to convince him to change his mind.

Fortunately, Wrex seemed to share Garrus's sentiment. "None of which are big enough for a krogan," he said with a shrug. "But," he added, his massive head lowering down to Shepard's eye level and his lips stretching into a broad grin, "if you miss me too much, you can always come down and join me."

Shepard let out an amused chortle. "I'll keep that in mind."

The bottle in Garrus's hand squeaked loudly at that moment, and he had to loosen his grip on it before he'd tear it in half. He tamped down his irritation and was about to retreat to the crew quarters to get away from these two when Jondum Bau finally emerged from his lair and announced that his search had born some results.

"The good news is," he said, "that I was able to track down the transponder code. The bad news is that the ship Dr. Saleon fled the Citadel on has been sold numerous times since then and does not belong to the doctor anymore. However," he continued, raising a hand before Vakarian had a chance to say something, "I'm confident that I'll be able to trace his transactions and ascertain whether or not he is the same person as Dr. Heart, and if he is, figure out where he moved his business from here. It might take some time, though."

"We could also conduct an investigation here, on Omega," Garrus suggested. "See if we can sniff around for some information."

Bau shook his head. "No. He might still have eyes and ears on the station. We don't want to alert his people that we're still after him and force him to go deep underground. In fact…" He rubbed his chin as he contemplated a new plan. "It might be beneficial to pretend that we've given up. Let him get comfortable in his new place and lower his guard."

He walked over to the fridge and poured himself a cup of something. It was gooey and green, and rather disgusting-looking, but if his contented smile and the devotion with which he cradled the cup and inhaled the scent of its contents were anything to go by, that goop must have been the most wonderful thing on this side of the universe.

"So," he continued, glancing up at the small group around him, "go on a shore leave. Do some shopping, have a drink, make it look like we've given up pursuit. Meanwhile, I'll keep working on tracking down his present location."

He gave them a satisfied nod and went back to his room, taking his gooey dish with him, and began to tap away on his console to put in a call to his favorite information broker.

Shepard and Wrex exchanged a gleeful look. "Well," she said, one corner of her lips curling into a lopsided grin, "you heard the man. How about a drink then?"

He grinned back at her. "You buying?"

"What, bounty hunting doesn't pay enough?"

"Not unless you actually kill the target."

She laughed and patted his arm. "Fine. Know of any good place around here?"

"Sure. There's one nearby. Not as fancy as you Alliance types might be used to, but good enough to get drunk."

"Can't be worse than that bar on Elysium."

Wrex tilted his head as he considered the issue for a moment, weighing the crappiness of one establishment against the other. "True."

Garrus had had enough. He put the bottle, a bit worse for wear but still in one piece, back into the cooler. A stiff drink sounded perfect right now. Maybe he could find a watering hole himself, get wasted, and forget about this day—at least for a couple of hours.

He was about to head out and leave these lovebirds by themselves when Shepard turned to face him and flashed him a bright smile.

"Want to join us?"

He wanted to decline. He wanted to say that he'd rather drink alone than endure one more minute of their constant jabbering.

Instead, his eyes lit up and his mandibles flared out into a happy grin. "Yeah. Okay."

 

* * *

Afterlife was dark, loud, and crowded, but at least the music wasn't bad, and after a few rounds of drinks, Garrus finally started to loosen up a bit.

He even cracked a few jokes with Wrex—which, as far as Shepard was concerned, was a minor miracle after the stink eye he'd been giving the krogan just an hour before. She'd had no idea what exactly Garrus's problem had been back on the ship, but now he was Mr. Charming himself as the three of them milled around with their drinks in their hands, making a show of complaining about their failed mission and the fact that they'd have to leave the station empty-handed.

Once in a while they'd drift back to the counter for a refill, then move on to another area of the bar for a repeat performance.

Shepard hoped their little act was convincing enough and they could go back to the ship soon. She was pleasantry buzzed, but had no intentions of getting drunk. Besides, it had been a long day, and she was looking forward to getting out of here and falling into her bed as soon as they got on board.

In fact, the thought of that bed was pretty enticing right now.

She looked over at Wrex and nudged him in the shoulder. "Ready to call it a night?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

Wrex gave her a wide grin. "Nope." He trudged up to an empty stretch of the counter and ordered a new round of drinks from the bartender.

She sidled after him with a sigh and held up one finger as she leaned against the counter for support. "All right. One more drink. But that's it."

Garrus followed them to the bar and planted himself on her other side. From the looks of it, he needed to hold on to something as much as she did.

Wrex gave a loud snort. "You've gotten soft, Shepard. What happened to the indomitable commander that tried to drink me under the table on Elysium?"

"She learned her lesson." She tossed back her drink, slammed the glass down, and shook her head to chase away the burn of the liquid as it slid down her throat. "She's also quite exhausted and ready to go to bed."

"Yeah," Garrus said. "Me, too."

Shepard gave him a nod and pushed away from the counter. "All right then. Let's go."

She took a step, but immediately stopped as sudden nausea welled up in her stomach. The room started to spin and her knees went weak, and she had to reach out blindly to hold on to something before she crumpled to the floor.

Garrus grabbed her shoulders to steady her. "Shepard. Are you all right?"

She tried to look up into his eyes, but she could barely see him; everything was blurry and things were getting progressively dark. "I don't feel so well," she whispered.

His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her closer to give her a bit more support. "Let's get you out of here," he said. "It will be less hot and muggy outside."

Her limbs were getting stiff and her breathing grew ragged as he guided her through the crowd and out of the bar. He had to carry more and more of her weight as they went, and by the time they reached the tunnel that lead away from Afterlife, she could barely walk on her own feet anymore.

"Stop," she croaked as she came to a halt. Everything was shutting down. Her vision, her muscles, her lungs—it was getting difficult to breathe, let alone talk. "I… can't—"

A strained gurgle escaped her throat as she clutched at her chest. The world went dark, and she collapsed into Garrus's arms.

 

* * *

Her vision was still fuzzy when she opened her eyes, but judging by the smells and the subdued lighting, she was pretty sure that they were still in the tunnel. She tried to look around, but all she could see were three blurry figures leaning over her. One of them looked like Garrus; he was sitting on the floor, cradling her prone body on his lap. The big, bulky one must have been Wrex, but she had no idea who the short and skinny person was.

"Shepard," Garrus said, catching her chin between his fingers as he turned her face towards him, "are you okay?"

"She's fine," Wrex rumbled. "What happened, Shepard? Getting too old to hold down your liquor anymore?"

"She's not drunk," Garrus snapped at the krogan. "Something is wrong. Drunks don't puke up blood."

The third figure leaned closer. It looked like a human. "The turian's right," he said. "Bought a drink from the batarian bartender, right?"

Wrex scratched his crest as he thought back to that last round he'd ordered. "Yeah. I think it _was_ a batarian."

The man shook his head. "Rule number one of Omega: Don't order a drink from that bastard if you're a human."

Garrus's head whipped up. "He poisoned her?"

"Wouldn't be the first time. He's got a stick up his ass about a bunch of batarians that died a while back. Killed my buddy, and many others, too. Humans aren't exactly held in high regard here, so no one does anything about it."

"Dammit."

Shepard reached up and tried to say something, but Garrus pushed her hand back down.

"Take it easy, Shepard. I've got this." He raised his arm to initiate his omni-tool's interface, and she closed her eyes as the orange glow lit up her face.

"Officer Vakarian. Need me for something?" Mordin's voice came through the tinny speakers.

"Looks like Shepard has been poisoned. We need your help. Can you come to the ship?"

"Be right there."

Shepard struggled to open her eyes again, but they felt as if they'd been glued shut. She could sense Garrus gathering her up in his arms as he stood, and could feel the jostling in every last cell of her limp body as he started to run.

And then—nothing.

 

* * *

She woke up to the touch of three cool fingers on her wrist and Mordin's voice in her ear.

"Blood pressure stabilizing. Pulse back to normal. Going to be fine."

For a moment she wondered who he was talking about; then she remembered the bar, the batarian, and that terrible sense of helplessness as her life was slipping away.

She experimentally wiggled her toes and fingers—they moved. She took a deep breath—her lungs worked. She opened her eyes and looked around—her vision still wasn't quite back to normal, but at least she could see clearer now.

Her gaze slid around the room. She was back on the ship, lying in her bed, Mordin was sitting on a chair that he'd pulled up next to her, Bau stood behind him, and Wrex was leaning against the back wall.

"Excellent," Bau said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some more work to do. Let me know if you need anything."

"Where's Garrus?" Shepard rasped out when the door closed behind the Spectre. Her throat felt raw and there was a taste of that terrible combination of blood and bile in her mouth.

Wrex shrugged his shoulders. "He took off as soon as Mordin started working on you."

"Oh." She wouldn't admit it for the world, but she was a little disappointed. "Where did he go?"

"How should I know? He just stormed out."

Mordin took one last scan before he turned his omni-tool off. "Seemed angry."

Damn. She didn't like the implications of this little bit of information. She struggled to sit up, but Mordin put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down. He was surprisingly strong for a salarian—or maybe she was still too weak to provide much resistance.

"Shouldn't get up yet," he said.

She rubbed her forehead with the back of a hand as she felt a headache coming on. "I have a bad feeling about this. I think he went back to the bar to—"

Before she could finish that sentence, the door slid open and Garus walked in.

He seemed relieved to see her awake. "Shepard," he said as he came to a stop by her bed. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." She raised her upper body onto an elbow and narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him. "The batarian?"

"Won't be a problem anymore."

She shook her head and blew out an annoyed huff of air. "You killed him? Dammit, Garrus, I told you already: I don't need you to fight my battles for me. I could have taken care of him myself."

" _I_ didn't kill him. I just, uh, _suggested_ that he drink his own poison."

She bit into her lower lip to stifle the chuckle erupting in her throat, but was only half successful. She had to hand it to him: he certainly had style. "And did he?"

"Well, no. One of the barflies overheard our little conversation and pulled a gun on him. Shot him right on the spot. Said he wasn't taking any chances. So, technically, it wasn't _me_ who killed him."

"You still could have waited for me to—"

Mordin held up a finger. "Ah, but instinct to protect his mate was too strong."

Shepard's and Garrus's heads jerked at the salarian in unison. "What?"

"Safeguarding mate, avenging assassination attempt on life of mate—very strong instinct in turians."

Shepard's eyes went wide in horror and the words froze on her lips for a second. When she got her voice back, she was yelling. "He's not my mate!"

Mordin's lips pulled into a patient smile. "No need to be embarrassed. Turian-human coupling unusual, but not unheard of. Possible issues with differences in chirality, but can be managed with allergy shots." He tilted his head to the side as he considered all the aspects of this inter-species relationship. "Of course, chafing can occur, but can provide ointment—"

Shepard threw up her hands. "For the love of god, we are _not_ mates! _Team_ mates, yes. _Mate_ mates, no!"

Her eyes snapped to Wrex to fix him with an annoyed glare when he let out a rumbling laugh. "Damn, Shepard," he said, "if I had known that you were into aliens, I would have made my move that night in the bar."

Mordin tapped his chin as he thought about this new development. "Hmm. Krogan-human relationship… a bit more problematic. No issues with chirality, but genitals somewhat less compatible in size. Muscle relaxation, medi-gel might help."

Shepard flopped back down onto her pillow and covered her eyes with her hand. "Oh, my god. Just…kill me now."

There was a moment of silence, then she heard Garrus clear his throat and shuffle his feet as he began to move towards the door.

"I think I'm, uh, going to check on the engines."

The next thing she heard was Wrex's belly laugh and the hiss of the door as it slid open and closed again.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to include the krogan in this mission. Or the salarian, for that matter.

 

* * *

The next couple of days were decidedly less eventful. They did some shopping, made friends with a quarian storekeeper and convinced his competitor to leave the kid alone (promising not to break the elcor's legs if he let Kenn set his own prices did wonders), did some bar-hopping in the different districts of Omega and kicked a few drunken thugs' asses in a fistfight, but mostly they just sat around the ship, talking and playing cards, while they waited for the results of the Spectre's investigations.

By the end of the third day, the forced inactivity began to drive Shepard insane.

She'd never been happier than now that the ship had a gym. Running on the treadmill and punching the bag was a poor substitute for the adrenaline rush of a real, honest-to-goodness mission, but it was better than nothing. At least it drained enough of her energy to help her go to sleep at night.

Wrex made no complaints about all the waiting, though his mood was definitely getting crankier and crankier with each passing day. Garrus, on the other hand, seemed to be crawling out of his skin with frustration.

So it was no surprise when she found the turian in the exercise room, beating the crap out of the punching bag, when she went down to work out one night. He gave her a grunt when she entered, and continued to pummel the hapless equipment without looking up.

"What did that poor thing do to you?" she asked as she walked over to the treadmill and draped her towel over one of the handlebars.

He stopped his assault and turned around to look at her. "What?"

"The bag. Seems like you have a personal vendetta against it."

He looked confused for a moment, then, once his translator had caught up, his mandibles spread out into a sheepish smile. "Oh. I just… needed to blow off some steam. Sitting around, waiting, is not exactly my idea of fun. If this was a turian ship, there would be other ways to relieve tension. But barring that—"

"Other ways? Like what?"

"Like sparring."

Shepard gave him a long look. That actually wasn't a bad idea. It wasn't exactly the same thing as going on a mission, but the excitement, the exertion—it would definitely help with relieving some of this tension.

"I'll spar with you."

"You? No offense, Shepard, but are you sure?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Well, for starters, and as a fair warning, I used to be the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialist on the ship I served on in the military."

"So? You think I can't take you?"

"That's exactly what I'm thinking."

"Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

He shook his head and raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Noted. Now help me get this mat out of the corner and roll it out onto the floor."

 

* * *

It didn't take longer than ten minutes for Shepard to realize that this was not a good idea. It was a pretty terrible idea, actually.

He was definitely stronger and faster than she was, his predatory instincts letting him know just by the look in her eyes or the slight twitch of her legs when she was going to strike and where, and she had a hard time keeping up with his punches and swipes.

Not that she didn't get in a few good hits herself; after all, she wasn't one of the best martial arts students at the Academy for nothing. Still, as the minutes dragged on, it was getting harder and harder to block his moves and land some jabs of her own, and before she knew it, she found herself flat on her back on the pad they'd dragged out into the middle of the room.

Garrus's large form loomed above her, his hips pushing down on her own, and his large hands held her by her wrists as he pinned her arms above her head.

"Yield," he snarled, bending down so close that she could feel his hot breath on her face.

She stared up into his strikingly blue eyes, and for the first time in her life, she found herself unable to speak. The fact that his groin, covered only by the thin fabric of his undersuit, was pressing against a _very_ sensitive spot between her legs might have had something to do with it, or maybe it was his scent, rolling off him in enticing waves, all pine and cool metal and something alluring she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Either way, it took her a few seconds, and another "Yield" from him, accompanied by more pressing down on her body, _oh dear god_ , before she could croak out, "I yield."

He should have let her go immediately, but he seemed to savor the moment for a while as he held her in his grip, eyes locked onto hers, before he got off of her and stood up. She raised her hand and he took the hint, and pulled her up to her full height.

"Well..." she started, but wasn't quite sure how to continue, so she just let that word hang in the air.

Garrus had to swallow hard to wet his dry throat before he could say something himself.

"Thanks for the, uh, sparring," he murmured, and quickly turned around to hurry out of the room.

She stared after him and watched, confused about what just happened, as the doors slid closed and she found herself alone in the small room.

And that's when it hit her: that bastard had left the mat on the floor and now _she_ had to roll it up and drag it back to the far corner, all by herself.

 

* * *

When she got back up to the main deck and entered the mess to have a big glass of water, she found Garrus, Wrex, and Bau sitting around the table.

"Ah, Commander Shepard!" Bau called out. "Glad to see you're up. I've just informed your teammates that I have the results of the search."

She shot a quick glance at Garrus. She expected him to be ecstatic, but he seemed positively miserable. That was strange, to say the least—she'd have to quiz him about his attitude later. Now, she turned her attention back to the Spectre. "You do?"

"Yes. Our assumption was right. Dr. Saleon did come here, to Omega, as Dr. Heart. And now we know where he moved his operation."

"Noveria," Garrus groaned. "Of all the places in the galaxy, it had to be Noveria."


	8. Preparations

Shepard pulled out an empty chair and lowered herself onto the seat with a carefully suppressed sigh. The sparring with Garrus had left her with some bruised muscles and a sore back, not to mention a lingering tension in a certain part of her anatomy, but she wasn't about to admit to her discomfort—not to Wrex, not to Bau, and especially not to Vakarian. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, then folded her hands on her lap before she raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her turian roommate.

"What's so bad about Noveria?"

Garrus leaned back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest, and gave her a long look.

His gaze set off a nervous flutter in her stomach. It brought up memories, in vivid detail, of that moment in the gym when his body had pressed down on hers and their eyes locked, and she had to dig her fingernails into the palms of her hands now to distract herself from the bolt of heat that rushed to her groin at that particular mental image.

"Well, there's the unbearable cold and the constant blizzards," he finally said, putting a merciful end to her unwelcome line of thought, "the illegal, unethical experiments, and oh, yeah, have I mentioned the cold?"

"Once or twice."

"Well, turians don't like it."

"Actually," Bau chimed in, raising a finger in the air, "the weather patterns are a bit more forgiving around the equator. There are some nice resorts there, too."

Garrus shot the Spectre a hopeful look. Maybe he got lucky for once, and that was precisely where that bastard had decided to set up his sick business. Salarians weren't exactly built for freezing temperatures; surely it would have made more sense for his kind to find a location that, as long as it had to be on Noveria, was in the least miserable part of the planet, right?

"However," Bau continued, "that's not where we're going. According to the information I was able to gather, Dr. Saleon's ship docked at Port Hanshan, on the northern hemisphere."

Garrus's shoulders dropped in disappointment. "Figures."

"I couldn't care less if he's inside a volcano or under a glacier," Wrex growled. As nice as it had been—at least for the first couple of days—to sit around on somebody else's expense, he had a job to do, and he wasn't going to get paid for accomplishing nothing. He leaned forward with a fierce gaze and focused his red eyes on the salarian. "So, when are we leaving?"

"We'll depart tomorrow morning, as soon as Professor Solus has finished making arrangements for his absence at the Clinic and has come on board. Before we can travel to Noveria, however, we need to make a stop at Sur'Kesh and see if we can borrow a replacement ship."

Garrus's brow plates tightened into a frown. "A new ship? But why?"

Bau made a sweeping gesture around them. "Landing on Noveria with the _Inandra_ would be unwise. We want to catch Dr. Saleon by surprise, and we can't do that if somebody recognizes this vessel and alerts him to our arrival."

Wrex pushed away from the table with a grunt and stood up. "Whatever. As long as I get to kill him soon."

Shepard watched the krogan lumber out of the mess, and waited until she could hear the elevator doors close behind him before she turned her attention back to the Spectre.

"Are you really going to let him kill the doctor?"

Bau cocked his head as he contemplated the issue for a moment. "We'll see. I would prefer to make an arrest instead, but if the only way to stop Saleon is to take his life, then—so be it."

Garrus gave an approving snort. "Works for me."

"Okay," Shepard said, lifting her hands from her lap and resting them, palms down, on the surface of the table. "If that's all, then I'm off to take my shower."

Bau waved a hand of dismissal. "Yes, yes, that is all for now. Good night, Commander. See you tomorrow morning."

She gave him a nod as she gathered herself up, then she retreated to the crew quarters to retrieve the items she'd need for her shower and disappeared into the bathroom with her supplies.

 

* * *

The warm water felt magnificent. It did wonders for her aching muscles and that annoyingly persistent tension in her body, and as she stood under the gentle sprays, eyes closed and fingers massaging the shampoo into her scalp, she could sense it flush away, together with the suds, the last remnants of that unsettling feeling that the sparring with Garrus had left behind.

By the time she'd turned off the tap and dried herself off, she was in a much better mood. She exited the bathroom and headed to the crew quarters with a spring in her step, confident that she had a perfectly reasonable explanation about what exactly it was that had set her loins on fire during her encounter with Garrus. It had nothing to do with the actual touch from her turian teammate, but everything to do with the simple fact that she hadn't been with a man in... she couldn't even remember how long.

She hadn't lied when she'd told him that she was not interested in his kind. They were too spiky and angular for her tastes, and so very different from humans; no way was she attracted to him, regardless of the thrilling danger in the way he moved or the intense look in his strikingly blue eyes when he—

The door in front of her swished open, and she almost tripped over her own two feet when she entered.

Garrus was already in the room, getting ready for bed.

She swallowed down her sudden nervousness and trudged over to the table, eyes kept strictly ahead, and dropped her things onto one of the chairs. Empty-handed now, she padded over to her bunk and sat down on the mattress, looking anywhere but at him, and leaned forward to pull her feet out of the flip-flops she'd worn to her bath.

During the last few weeks, having to share accommodations with Garrus had become as normal and unremarkable as any other part of her military life, but now the awkwardness was back in full force, and she wondered whether he was fighting the same kinds of feelings she herself had been struggling with this whole evening.

He was uncharacteristically quiet, that was for certain, and she couldn't resist stealing a brief glance at him when she heard him walk over to his locker and open its door.

Still bent forward, hoping that, should he look her way, her eyes would be hidden by her locks that fell into her face, she slowly slid her gaze up his legs and to his hips and...

Her breath hitched in her throat and she froze when her eyes settled on his torso. His naked, muscular, very alien-looking torso.

She tried to look away, but she couldn't—she felt absolutely mesmerized by the intricate pattern of the plates covering most of his body. They looked slightly metallic and glistened softly in the subdued light, and she wondered how it would feel to run her fingertips across their surface. Would they be hard and rigid beneath her touch, or would they give under a little pressure? It was probably the latter; after all, they seemed flexible enough to give him a wide range of motion. There were also patches of soft, leathery-looking skin here and there, mainly around his waist, neck, and arms, which revealed impressive, rope-like muscles that she found absolutely fascinating to watch as he moved around.

It came almost as a disappointment when he pulled on a thick top, taking away her view. Show over, she was about to turn her attention back to her own feet when he cleared his throat. "Is everything all right?"

She looked up in surprise. "Yeah, sure. Why?"

"Well, you were, ah, staring. Like something was wrong."

Shepard's face heated up in embarrassment. "I was just, uh," she stammered, reaching behind her neck to rub at her skin as she tried desperately to come up with a believable reason for having so shamelessly ogled her roommate. "I was thinking that… umm, I haven't seen you wear that top before."

He looked down at himself and smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle. "Yeah, it's part of a warmer set. It may sound silly, but just thinking about Noveria gave me the chills. So I thought that I'll, uh, put this on for tonight."

She had to bite into her lower lip to stop herself from grinning. She'd never thought that one day she would find Garrus Vakarian cute, but he looked almost... adorable, all nervous and bashful as he closed his locker's door and padded over to his bunk.

She pulled her flip-flops off and slid under the covers, and rested her head on the palm of her hand as she watched him get into bed. "Have you actually been to Noveria?" she asked.

"No. I just heard about it."

"Maybe it won't be that bad."

"Or maybe it will be worse."

She let out an amused snort. "Always the optimist."

"Just being realistic. Better to expect something bad to happen and be pleasantly surprised than... the other way around."

"True." She lowered her head onto the pillow with a sigh. "How about Sur'Kesh?" she asked a few moments later, yawning around the last word.

He turned his head towards her, his brow plates lifting up in wide-eyed confusion. "Hmm? What about it?"

She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Any words of wisdom about that place?"

"Heat. Humidity. Much nicer than Noveria."

She chuckled. "Good to hear. Looking forward to it." She turned onto her other side and closed her eyes. "G'night."

His gaze slid down her shoulders to the dip in her waist and the flare of her hips under the covers and lingered there for a moment before he answered. "Night, Shepard."

His voice reverberated warmly in the room, and she snuggled into her blanket with a contented sigh.

She dreamed about Garrus and his blue eyes that night.

 

* * *

By the time Shepard got up in the morning, Mordin had already come on board and they were well on their way to Sur'Kesh.

When she stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and still half asleep, she found Wrex and the salarian sitting peacefully together at the table.

The krogan put down his mug and gave her a friendly nod. "Shepard."

"Wrex."

Mordin glanced up from his omni-tool. "Commander. Nice to see you again. Feeling well this morning?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"No residual effects from the poison?"

She snagged a ration bar and poured herself a cup of coffee before she strolled back to the table and sat down. "No. Everything is fine. Thank you for all your help."

The salarian dipped his head in acknowledgement and went back to the rows of data he'd been studying.

A few minutes later Garrus emerged from the bathroom and grabbed his own breakfast, and not long after that, Bau strolled out of his room and joined them at the table.

"Good, we're all here," he said. "We'll be landing on Sur'Kesh in a couple of hours, so this would be a good time to discuss our plans." He waved an inviting hand at the doctor. "Professor Solus, if you please."

"Hmm?" Mordin looked up from his omni-tool, his eyelids fluttering in confusion for a moment before his brain caught up. "Oh, yes. Will land at STG Headquarters. Have arranged for meeting with old colleague there; hope to get him to help us. Need temporary ship, disguises, undercover story to stay undetected on Noveria. Might take a while to convince him, though. Good captain, but bit of a cloaca."

"Naturally, Professor Solus and I have clearance to enter the base," Bau added, "but the rest of you will have to stay on board until we've secured entry permissions for everybody." His gaze slid over his teammates and settled on the human female. "Commander Shepard," he said, leaning forward, "I'll leave you in charge while we're gone."

Shepard managed to resist the urge to jump up and snap him a salute. It was hard to remember sometimes, especially early in the morning, that this was not an Alliance vessel. She stilled her hand and gave the salarian a sharp nod instead. "Yes, Spectre."

"Good. I'll be in my room if you need me."

He retreated to his quarters, and the rest of them stayed sitting around the table until they arrived at their destination.

 

* * *

Sur'Kesh seemed pretty nice—at least, judging by the little bit of view the cockpit's windows provided for those stuck on the ship while Mordin and Bau visited with their contact in the STG.

Mordin's prediction about the length of time the discussion was going to take turned out to be spot on. His old captain must have been a hard nut to crack, for the hours kept dragging on and on without as much as a peep from either of the salarians.

Garrus suggested a card game to pass the time, which went pretty well until Wrex got fed up with the waiting (and losing) and almost tipped the table over in his irritation.

It was a relief when Shepard's omni-tool finally pinged with an urgent message, and Bau informed them that their discussions had been fruitful. Their group was to disembark the _Inandra_ , leaving their guns on board, meet up with an escort at the hatch, and join Mordin and the Spectre at their present location.

The escort turned out to be three salarians; two guards with submachine guns and an agent who, while most likely armed as well, although in a much less conspicuous manner than the other two, was friendly enough to extend a hand in greeting.

"Welcome to Sur'Kesh," he said. "My name is Padok Wiks."

Shepard accepted the three fingered appendage and shook it firmly. "Thank you. I'm Commander Shepard. This is Garrus Vakarian and Urdnot Wrex."

"Yes, I know. I've been briefed. This way, please."

He herded them all into an elevator and pushed a button on the control panel.

"You've been cleared for the lowest level," he said. "All other areas are off limits, unless specifically given permission and accompanied by an STG agent. I'm sure you understand that we can't have outsiders roam the base at will."

Shepard gave him a nod. "Of course."

"Frankly, I'm stunned that you were allowed to enter at all," he continued. His body stilled for a moment and his eyes darted around at his charges. "No offense." Shepard shook her head dismissively, and he went on. "Though, maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Mordin can talk your horns off, and he can be as stubborn as a _kathka_. Once he gets something in his head—"

Shepard raised a curious eyebrow. "You know Mordin?"

"Yes. We used to work together back when he was still in the STG. Excellent scientist. Tough agent. Sometimes a little annoying, though."

"Sounds about right," Wrex grumbled. "Especially that last part."

They were silent for a few moments, until the elevator finally stopped with a slight lurch.

"Ah, here we are," Padok said, waving a hand at the open door. "This way."

They followed him down a brightly lit corridor, with the guards unobtrusively taking up the rear, until they reached the room at the end. Once the security system had scanned their little group, the doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a bank of computers at the back wall and Mordin and Bau huddling in front of one of the monitors with another salarian.

Bau looked up as they entered, and gestured for them to come closer.

"Excellent," he said. "I'm glad you're here. We were just finalizing some details about our cover story." He tapped on the computer's interface and pulled up several official looking documents on the overhead monitor. "We're going to be members of a new bioengineering firm called AndoraGen Enterprises, doing high-level and not quite legal research into biotics enhancement through genetics manipulation. We'll arrive on Noveria under the guise of looking for lab facilities and some offices for our company. This should allow us to snoop around and locate the whereabouts of our target without raising any suspicion.

"Commander Shepard," he continued, turning to his human protégé, "you're going to be the representative that will conduct the talks with Port Hanshan's administrator. Urdnot Wrex and Officer Vakarian will play the roles of your bodyguards. Mordin and I will most likely stay on board and monitor the situation from the ship until we know Dr. Saleon's location and can make our move."

"You'll also need appropriate clothing and armor to go with your new identities," the salarian standing by Bau's side interjected, casting a critical glance at Shepard's and Garrus's outfits. "You can't wear Alliance or C-Sec armor and expect people to believe your story."

Bau gave a quick nod. "Yes, you'll need proper apparel for this mission. Armors with the company logo for the bodyguards, and formal business attire for the representative. Everything has to look legitimate. Commander Rentola here can help you with all that. Come see me when you're done."

Rentola waved an inviting hand as he started to walk towards another computer station at the far end of the room. "Follow me, please."

Shepard, Wrex, and Garrus trudged after him, but stopped in their tracks when the salarian reached the table, picked up some kind of instrument, and pointed it right at them.

"Wrex," Shepard drawled in warning when the krogan stiffened and began to glow a biotic blue. The guards, who'd followed them like two inconspicuous shadows, raised their guns, but thankfully restrained themselves from pulling the trigger just yet.

Commander Rentola lifted his hands into the air in a placating gesture. "It's a scanning device," he said. "I need to take measurements to determine the sizing."

Wrex gave an annoyed grunt, but the glowing radiance around his body dissipated, and the guards lowered their weapons.

One by one, Rentola passed the scanner over Shepard and her teammates and entered the numbers into the computer. "Good. The armors will be something generic, but maybe you would like to choose the garment yourself, Commander?" He brought up a selection of outfits on the monitor and stepped away, gesturing for Shepard to step closer and investigate her options.

Shepard had never really been a dress person. She felt more comfortable in a pair of pants and tee shirt, or, preferably, a set of good armor, and as she stood there, dumbfounded and perplexed at the different styles of female clothing on display in front of her, she could feel a familiar uncertainty settle in her stomach. What the hell should she wear?

"Hmm," she said, tapping her chin and trying to stall for time, "I'm not sure..."

"Just choose something already," Wrex snorted impatiently.

"All right, all right!" She was about to point at one of the high-neck, long-sleeve getups when Garrus reached over her shoulder and poked a finger at the hideous thing in the top right corner that she'd been busy ignoring until now. It was the most revealing dress she'd ever seen; bright pink, with huge holes in the chest and stomach area and two long slits up along the legs.

"Found it!" he yelled in mock excitement.

Shepard's head whipped around to glare at him. "In your dreams!" she snapped. "I'm supposed to be a company representative, not a hooker. Not to mention that I have no intention of getting hypothermia." She crossed her arms and cocked her hip as her lips quirked up into a smirk. "But if you like it that much, we could trade roles and _you_ could be the representative. I'm sure we can find something like that in your size."

Garrus's mandibles flared out in a cheeky grin. "Mmm… Maybe not."

"That's what I thought." She turned back to the monitor and pointed at the most conservative (and warmest-looking) dress on the display. "This one."

Rentola gave her a nod of approval. "Good choice. Simple and classy. It will complement the color of your—"

His mouth snapped shut as he noticed the slack-jawed stare of everybody else around him. "Not that I would know that much about fashion and… things of that nature." He dipped his head and made sure to look busy as he began to tap on the console's keyboard. "The items will be ready in a couple of hours and will be delivered to the ship. You may continue your discussion with Spectre Bau now."

Shepard exchanged an amused glance with her teammates before they turned around and walked back to Mordin and Bau. Padok Wiks was still standing there with them, but in the meantime they'd been joined by another salarian as well. They appeared to be in deep conversation, but stopped talking when their little group approached.

"All done?" Bau asked.

"I sure hope so," Wrex grunted. "Can we go now?"

"Yes, we're almost done here. But before we leave," he added, gesturing at the newcomer by his side, "I'd like you to meet the person who's made all of this possible."

Shepard's head snapped to the salarian Bau was waving at. From the corner of her eye, she could see Garrus and Wrex do the same.

The salarian in question gave them a stiff nod.

"This is Captain Kirrahe," Bau continued. "Your new shipmate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [KabiViolet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KabiViolet) for beta reading and her help!


	9. You Are Cordially Invited

Shepard's brows tightened into a confused frown as her eyes flitted between Kirrahe and Jondum Bau. "Shipmate?" she asked, raising a hand to gently tap the translator behind her right ear. Maybe it had glitched out on that last word, and that wasn't actually what the Spectre had said. "I thought we were only going to borrow a ship. Didn't realize an STG captain was going to come with it, too."

Bau gave her a solemn nod, while he ignored Wrex's irritated grumble about _'another damn salarian on this damned mission'_. "Yes, well. The higher ups had certain… requests in exchange for their help."

"Ah." Garrus leaned back on one hip and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I wondered about that. I figured they weren't doing this out of the goodness of their hearts."

Mordin gave the turian a knowing look. "Yes. STG known for many things. Altruism not one of them."

"Understatement of the century," Wrex snarled.

Kirrahe's eyes narrowed into thin slots for a moment as he shot a disapproving glance at his former subordinate, but Mordin either didn't notice, or didn't care. The captain let out an annoyed sigh and turned back to the group of aliens in front of him. "Our resources aren't unlimited. They need to be spent on matters of great importance, and, as reprehensible as his acts are, Dr. Saleon isn't in that category. It's only logical that as long as we're spending funds on this case, we should get something out of it."

Shepard had to admit that he had a point. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but wonder how the captain's inclusion was going to affect the hierarchy on the ship and the chain of command during their mission.

Apparently, Wrex had similar concerns. He leaned forward to glower at Kirrahe. "I didn't sign up for an STG operation. You want my help—you'll have to pay me. I don't work for free. Especially not for salarians."

Kirrahe shook his head. "You're not going to work for me. My arrangement is with Spectre Bau; you have nothing to do with that."

"I'm still in charge of our mission," Bau confirmed. "Captain Kirrahe is merely accompanying us to Noveria."

Mordin watched the exchange with a crooked smile, and when Wrex withdrew with some hesitation, he gave the krogan a cheerful nod. "Everything will be fine. Nothing to worry about."

For some reason, the glint in the salarian's eyes failed to put Wrex's mind at ease.

 

* * *

It didn't take long on the new ship for Wrex to realize that everything was most certainly not fine.

The _Deh'Lan_ was the spitting image of Bau's vessel—same class, same size, just as heavily fortified. It had the exact same layout as well, and, once they transferred their supplies to the lower deck, the krogan was ready to claim an empty spot in one of the storage rooms as his own, just like he'd done on the _Inandra_.

He gathered up his belongings from the cart they'd used for the move and was about to march into his chosen lair when the door snapped shut in front of his face and the lock lit up bright red. He turned around, his eyes blazing crimson with annoyance, and let out a growl when he found Kirrahe behind him, calmly tapping away on his omni-tool.

"Open the damn door," Wrex snarled.

"Sorry," Kirrahe said, his tone clearly void of any actual remorse on his part, "the storage rooms remain locked for the duration of the trip. If you need something from the inventory, please let Spectre Bau or myself know and one of us will authorize the removal of the item in question."

Wrex's hands clenched into angry fists. "Authorize it _now_."

The captain had already started to walk towards the elevator, but he looked back at the krogan now. "Hmm? What is it you need?"

"I need the damn door opened so I can put my stuff in there."

"Stuff? What stuff? I thought all the supplies had been deposited already."

Wrex growled in frustration and he pointed a finger, glowing slightly blue with the beginnings of a biotic burst, at the door. "I want this room for myself. I'm not going to sleep in one of your puny little beds."

Kirrahe shook his head. "Request denied. This room is for storage only. I suggest you find another solution. Preferably, one of those puny little beds in the crew quarters."

He spun around and briskly walked away, leaving the old battlemaster behind.

Wrex stood there dumbfounded for a moment, his jaws slack and his eyes blinking in astonishment at the audacity of that scrawny little salarian, until his rage won out over his surprise and he let out a deafening roar.

 

* * *

Shepard was about to lay claim to one of the bunks in the crew quarters (the same one she'd gotten used to on Bau's ship, the one farthest from the door) when a loud, thundering rumble reverberated through the ship and shook the floor underneath her feet.

Her hand froze in the air and her eyes snapped to Garrus. "What the hell was that?"

He stopped and listened for a moment, then opened his hands wide in a clueless shrug before he turned back to the task of carefully lining up his guns in his locker. "No idea."

She waited for any other signs of trouble, but there were none, so she relaxed her shoulders and dropped her bag on the mattress. She had a nagging feeling, though, that the booming thunder they'd heard was not going to be the end of it at all.

Her suspicion proved eerily right when the door swished open and Wrex charged in.

"That miserable little piece of varren bait," he growled as he barreled through the room and tossed his rolled-up sleeping mat on the floor.

Shepard's brows shot up high on her forehead. "What happened?"

"Kirrahe happened," Wrex snarled. "He locked the storage room and refused to let me set up camp there."

The commander sucked in a startled breath. Suddenly, that loud roar made frightening sense. "Is he alive?"

Wrex whirled around, surprisingly fast for his bulky frame, to glower at the human. "What do you mean, is he alive? I'm not an animal! Of course he's alive. Besides, he got in the elevator before I could do anything," he added in a soft mumble.

Shepard's lips started to pull into an amused smirk, but her expression froze on her face when the krogan opened up his mat and spread it out on the floor. It took up nearly all the space between her bunk and the one on the opposite side of the room.

"What are you doing?" she asked, rubbing her neck nervously as she began to consider the implications of her old friend setting himself up in the sleeping quarters.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he sneered. "I have to sleep somewhere. Those mattresses are way too small for me. Besides, I prefer to sleep on the floor. Keeps me from getting soft like you people."

"And what if I have to get up at night?"

"Why would you get up?"

"Maybe I get thirsty. Or maybe I have to go to the bathroom. I'd rather not trip and fall over you in the dark."

Wrex looked up at her face from his crouching position and gave her a wide-lipped grin. "I'll be happy to share my mat with you. No tripping over me then."

His invitation had the desired effect: Shepard shook her head with a laugh. Garrus growled.

Wrex let out a rumbling chuckle _._ This new sleeping arrangement was going to be quite fun after all.

 

* * *

Shepard put the last touches on the little bit of makeup she was allowing for the occasion, tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear, and stepped back from the sink to examine herself in the small bathroom mirror.

She wished there was another female on board she could ask if she looked all right. Even if her reflection had granted more than a limited view of her head and shoulders, she'd have no idea if the outfit the salarians had provided for the mission fit her well, or if she'd layered on too much of the lip gloss she'd found in her ancient toiletry bag, still sealed and unused after all these years, or if brushing her hair back like that made her look sophisticated and elegant or just really, really... pathetic.

Her hands gripped the edges of the counter and she leaned forward to frown at her own image. She should have paid more attention when her mother had tried to instill at least a modicum of fashion sense and femininity in her during their one shopping trip to Nos Astra for that school dance that... had never had the chance to happen. But no, she had to drag her feet and roll her eyes and make snarky comments about every outfit in the store until her mother gave up and they went back to the hotel room and she could bury her nose in her newly bought magazine about the latest engineering inventions.

Her chest tightened with emotion and she had to swallow past a sudden lump in her throat at the memories this stupid dress had torn out of that dark corner of her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a few cleansing breaths to calm her nerves and force back these all-too-familiar thoughts of loss, regret, and guilt to the deepest recesses of her mind, and once she felt calm enough again, she pushed away from the sink.

She shook her head in exasperation as she stared at herself in the mirror. Why did she even care how she looked? To all these aliens on board and most likely on Noveria as well, she'd probably seem just as weird whether she was wearing the fanciest gown and hairdo or her battered old armor and helmet.

That thought was actually... quite liberating. She picked up her brush and makeup bag and finally exited the bathroom, feeling just a little bit better about having to wear this ridiculous disguise.

She walked back to the crew quarters and tossed her toiletries onto her mattress, strapped her pistol on her thigh underneath the dress, and hurried to the mess hall to join her teammates.

Wrex rose from his chair when she entered, abandoning the mug he'd been nursing for the last ten minutes. "About time," he groused. "Thought you fell asleep on the toilet."

Shepard gave him a tight grin. Despite her earlier pep talk to herself, she couldn't help the nervous fluttering in her stomach as the room fell silent for a moment and all eyes turned to her.

Mordin and Captain Kirrahe were sitting across from each other at the table, having an animated discussion, but they stopped talking now. They gave her what she could only interpret as a nod of approval, then they went back to arguing about some sore point in salarian history.

Bau, leaning against the counter with his legs crossed elegantly at his ankles, looked up from the datapad in his hand and gave her a small wave. "Ah, Commander Shepard. I see you're ready. Excellent. I'll be with you in a minute."

Shepard let out a relieved huff of breath. Just like she'd expected, so far nobody seemed to care what she looked like. She started to relax and was about to head to the cooling unit to grab a bottle of water when Garrus closed the bottom drawer of the fridge, straightened up to his full, imposing height from his crouched position, and turned around all the way to face her.

His gaze slowly slid down her body then back up again, lingering for a split second on her hips and waist, before his blue eyes found her own and locked onto them with the intensity of a hungry predator.

Shepard could feel her cheeks heat up with an unstoppable blush, and she swallowed loudly as she finally realized who exactly it was that had made her so anxious about her appearance. It wasn't Wrex, Bau, Mordin, or Kirrahe, or anybody else on this frozen planet; it was this damned turian. It was Garrus all along.

"So, how do I look?" she asked with an anxious little smile before she could stop herself.

His gaze raked up and down her form once again. "Nice. Very nice."

Despite her best efforts to control her reaction to the low rumble in his voice and the heated look in his eyes, her timid smile stretched into a full grin. "Thanks."

"Commander Shepard, Officer Vakarian," Jondum Bau called out, shattering their fuzzy little moment, "please come with me."

They followed the Spectre to the captain's quarters. Bau turned around as soon as the door slid closed behind them, and waved the datapad that he'd been holding at Shepard.

"Once you're alone with the administrator in his office, give him this," he said, passing the datapad to the commander.

She took a quick glance at the screen, inscrutably black now that the Spectre had turned the device off. "What is it?"

"It's a note letting him know that I'm here, and an invitation for him to come on board for a private chat." His lips stretched into a sly smile and he raised a hand to quell the flood of questions he knew were coming. "Don't worry, he'll comply. He owes me a favor. It was me who helped him get his position a couple of years back."

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the desk behind him. "Nevertheless, it will be easier to convince him to help us with our investigation if we can talk outside of hearing range of any listening ears. Also," he added, scratching the skin above his left eye in what Shepard had come to regard as a nervous gesture, "I need to introduce him to Captain Kirrahe."

Garrus tilted his head at this last bit of revelation. "Ah. Part of the deal with the STG?"

Bau pushed away from the desk. "Indeed. They couldn't pass up the opportunity to gain access to such a useful resource." He walked over to the door, but held the control panel's button down to prevent it from opening just yet. "Tread lightly out there. We don't know how extensive Dr. Saleon's spy network is. Do not discuss our mission until you're back on board. Remember, you are representatives of AndoraGen Enterprises; even the administrator doesn't know anything more than that at the moment. I'll fill him in once he's here."

He released the switch with a last nod. The door swished open, and Garrus and Shepard walked out into the mess hall.

Shepard nudged his head at Wrex in a silent invitation. The krogan's lips curled up into a wicked grin, and he slammed his fists together in unbridled excitement before he fell in step behind them.

"Finally."

 

* * *

Noveria was just as chilly as Garrus had expected. He started shivering as soon as they exited the airlock, and by the time they made it through the docking bay and reached the warmer areas inside, he felt as though his lungs had been frozen solid from the frigid air he'd had to breathe in.

"Have I told you that turians don't like the cold?" he said glumly as they walked down the hallway to the administrator's office.

"At least you're wearing your armor," Shepard groused, tossing a frown at him over her shoulder. "There's no heat regulator in this stupid dress, you know."

Wrex let out an annoyed groan. "Krogan don't like the cold either, but you don't hear _me_ whine about it."

Shepard shook her head and rolled her eyes. She considered telling him how frigging _happy_ she was for him, but they'd just about reached the secretary's desk already, so she decided to swallow her scathing reply—for now.

"Can I help you?" the young woman asked as she looked up from her computer console with a forced smile.

"Laura Brenson, AndoraGen Enterprises," Shepard said. "I have an appointment with the administrator."

"Oh, yes. Please go ahead. His office is just around the corner." She pushed the button on her intercom with one hand to announce their arrival while she gestured at the wall wrapping around behind her with the other.

They followed the direction she pointed at, rounded the corner, and opened the double doors on their left to find an elegantly dressed turian with white colony markings inside.

He rose up from his chair and walked around the large desk when they entered. "Ah, Miss Brenson. Welcome to Noveria. My name is Lorik Qui'in. I am Port Hanshan's administrator."

Shepard extended her right hand in greeting. "Thank you. Pleasure to meet you, Administrator."

The turian took the offered appendage. Garrus thought he was going to shake it; instead, he bent down and gently pressed his mouth plates to the delicate skin on top.

Garrus's mandibles went slack. "The hell is he doing?" he murmured to the krogan by his side.

Wrex shook his large head. "I have no idea."

Shepard seemed to freeze for a moment before she pulled her hand away. Her face took on a rosier color and she nervously reached up to her hair to tuck it behind her ear.

Unfazed by her reaction, Lorik Qui'in walked back to his chair and made an inviting gesture at the seat on the other side of his desk. "Please, sit down. Let me tell you about all the wonderful opportunities Noveria has to offer for a company like yours."

Shepard fished out Bau's datapad from her pocket and took a step forward to hand it to the administrator. "Actually, I have another reason for my visit."

The turian lifted a questioning brow plate, but took the device without another word. He turned it on, read the contents, then leaned back in his chair as he raised his dark eyes back up to the woman in front of him. "Normally, I take a lady out for drinks and dinner before I get invited to her place."

His mandibles fluttered in amusement, and Shepard gave him a small smile in return. "Technically, it's not my place. And the invitation isn't by me."

Lorik Qui'in nodded. "I'm aware. However, it might still be a good idea to spend a little time in the bar first. For appearance's sake—we don't want to raise suspicions if somebody's watching."

Shepard glanced over her shoulder and caught Garrus's eye. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, and he didn't particularly like the slightly suggestive tone in the administrator's subharmonics, but he had to admit that he had a valid point.

He gave Shepard a reluctant nod of agreement, and hoped that he wasn't going to regret it.

 

* * *

Garrus couldn't stop taking irritated peeks at the pair at the counter and straining his ear canals to catch little snippets of what they were saying.

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. He and Wrex, true to their roles as bodyguards, had been delegated to standing by a few feet away as they waited for their "boss" to finish drinking, and he found that every little chuckle, every little laugh that came from Shepard's direction made him more and more annoyed at this absurd situation.

He told himself that the only reason it bothered him so much was that he wanted to get on with their mission, but as the minutes crawled by, he was forced to acknowledge that it was more than that. For some idiotic, insane reason, he couldn't stand the thought that maybe Shepard actually liked that smooth-talking jerk sitting right next to her. Maybe she liked Lorik Qui'in more than... him.

He didn't realize he was growling until Wrex nudged him in the side. "Just tell her how you feel."

Garrus's head whipped around to scowl at the krogan. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Wrex let out a long-suffering sigh. "Come on, it's obvious you have the hots for her. Just make your move already. I don't think she would object anyway."

Garrus's glare turned into a stunned, slack-jawed stare, and he said the only thing that his brain was able to produce at the moment. "What?"

Wrex's lips quirked up into a satisfied grin. Oh, this was fun. He couldn't wait to see how Shepard was going to react if the turian actually followed his advice. He glanced over at the bar and nodded his head in Shepard's direction. "Looks like they're done."

Garrus was still somewhat in a state of shock when the couple passed by them. He turned around on autopilot to join Wrex and follow them out of the bar, staying a few steps behind. He only really came to his senses when he noticed Lorik Qui'in's hand briefly brush the small of Shepard's back, and he had to make a conscious effort to stop himself from tearing that asshole's miserable limb off.

"As you humans like to say, take me to your leader," the administrator said, intoning the words as if he had just uttered something really funny.

Maybe he did, because Shepard burst out laughing and kept snickering as they walked on.

Garrus, on the other hand, didn't find anything in this whole situation amusing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to give Lorik Qui'in a role in this story - he's one of my favorite side characters in Mass Effect. So, yep, that was one reason why I brought them to Noveria. You'll find out about the other reason in the next chapter. ;)
> 
> Thank you to KabiViolet for beta reading!


	10. Lockdown

The _Deh'Lan's_ mess hall hadn't exactly been designed with interspecies conferences in mind, but it served relatively well for the purpose. Jondum Bau, Mordin Solus, and Lorik Qui'in settled down around the table while the rest of the team huddled behind their chairs, eyes focused on the holographic display that hovered over the administrator's arm.

The only person missing from the gathering was Captain Kirrahe. He stayed in the kitchen with an air of disinterested detachment, trying to look as inconspicuous as he could as he slowly stirred the pot of salarian tea he'd been brewing for the last several minutes. This wasn't his mission, after all; as much as he disliked not being in charge, he was here merely as a passenger and an observer. If he happened to catch a little bit of information here and there while he waited for his chance to talk to the administrator, that was nothing more than a happy coincidence.

He stole a quick glance at the group as he lowered the heat on the cooking unit. Lorik Qui'in was scrolling through a long list of arrivals on his omni-tool at the moment, muttering barely recognizable words under his breath as he carefully read each ship name on the screen. Finally, he jabbed a triumphant finger at a line that glowed brightly among the rows of data he'd been going through.

"Oh, yes," he said, "here it is. That vessel did dock here recently. Dr. Bones leased one of our facilities at Peak 16."

Garrus huffed out a derisive snort. "So he's _Dr. Bones_ now? That bastard has a really sick sense of humor."

Bau gave his young protégé a hum of agreement, but otherwise didn't comment on the name change; there were more important matters to discuss at the moment, after all. "What can you tell us about this Peak 16?" he asked, leaning closer to the omni-tool's display as the administrator pulled up a map of the port and its vicinities.

"It's a complex of several smaller lab, office, and lodging suites some distance from Port Hanshan, cut into the side of the Ightraye Mountains." Lorik poked one of the icons on the map, which brought up a three dimensional holographic image of the structure. It looked like a giant, mutated octopus, with a central hub and several tentacles branching off in different directions, all ending in an oddly shaped, but well isolated, compound. Lorik pointed at the one situated on the north side. "Dr. Bones leased this one. Suite Number 5."

Shepard blew out a small whistle. "That's supposed to be small? Seems pretty extensive to me. Just how big is his company?"

"Back on the Citadel, he had four guards and twelve other 'employees'—whose job, of course, was nothing more than being his walking, breathing incubators," Garrus said, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back on one leg. "Dealing in black-market organs, especially if you have readily available, warm bodies on which you can perform those harvests over and over again, is an extremely profitable business, so he probably has even more people now. Judging by the size of his clinic on Omega and the place here, I wouldn't be surprised if he's doubled, or even tripled, his workforce since his Citadel days."

Bau's lips pressed together into a thin line as he considered all this. Having such valuable "employees" under close watch, protected—and no doubt, confined—by those hired guns, made perfect sense for Dr. Saleon's business but, as far as this mission was concerned, the presence of all those civilians on site made things much more delicate and complicated than he would have liked.

"Do we have any data on the size of his workforce and their distribution within the compound?" he asked, blinking his large eyes at the administrator.

Lorik Qui'in waved a dismissive hand in the air. "We don't keep track of details like that. All that matters to our investors is whether or not a client pays their bill. If they can refrain from destroying the lab they're renting, all the better. As for the location of his people within the building, I have no idea. We only provide the space and some of the equipment, but it's up to our clients to furnish and use the rooms as they see fit."

"So, the barracks could be in any of these rooms."

"Indeed."

Mordin tapped his chin, head tilted in deep thought, as he surveyed the layout. "Only one entry point. Would be difficult to get in unnoticed. Firefight more than likely soon after arrival. Would prefer not to shoot civilians when that happens."

Shepard leaned forward and dragged her finger along a vertical shaft that shot straight up from the back of the complex to the surface of the mountain the building had been cut into. "What about this?"

Lorik's mandibles flared out in an amused smile. "That, my dear, is a shuttle chute. I don't recommend jumping down that hole to get in—it would most certainly end in death."

Shepard's brows knitted into a frown. This little piece of information was not exactly welcome news. "They have shuttles back there?"

"Yes. For emergencies. Otherwise, the place could become a deathtrap if there were a fire or... some other kind of disaster, and the tunnel to the central hub were closed off."

"Dammit," Garrus groaned. "That's not good. Once that son of a bitch smells danger, he'll try to grab one of those shuttles and run." He scratched the back of his neck as he pondered this possible setback. He'd waited too long to catch that bastard; he wasn't about to let him slip through his fingers again. "Can we hack into the hatch controls somewhere to prevent them from opening when he tries to fly out?"

Lorik's eyes unfocused for a moment as he searched his memories about the security and maintenance features of their facilities. This wasn't really his area of expertise, but he seemed to remember something from a tour of one of the complexes that he'd visited when he'd become the new administrator of Noveria. "I believe so. Every compound has a central control room. If you can get to that in time, you might be able to lock down the hatch controls."

Mordin gave a couple of quick nods. "Yes, yes. That would work." He pointed at the holographic structure still shimmering in the air. "Which one's the control room?"

Lorik's mandibles flicked out in a patient smile. "I don't know. Like I said, it's up to every client to set up their facility in the way they desire."

Bau shook his head in frustration. "Not good enough. If we don't want to waste time running around all over the place, we have to know where we need to go. I'd also like to get more intel about the location of the civilians. Maybe we could lock them in their rooms to keep them out of the line of fire—or just avoid their area altogether, if at all possible."

Lorik's fingers thrummed out a few nervous beats on the table as he considered his options. Finally, he raised his gaze from the map to glance at the small group around him.

"Well, there is one way to do that. However, I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself that I helped you with this. I don't think the Board of Directors would be very pleased if they found out that the idea came from me. My situation is a bit tenuous as it is, what with the smear campaign one of my predecessor's loyal lackeys has been waging against me." He flashed a toothy smile at Shepard. "As you humans say, he's been a fly in the lotion since I took office."

"Give me his name and location, and he won't be a problem anymore."

The administrator's head whipped around to gape at the salarian in the kitchen. "Are you suggesting killing him?"

"Not necessarily, though that can be arranged if that's what you want," Kirrahe said calmly as he put down his mug, steaming with the finally ready tea, on the counter. "Or, I can just make sure that certain files about his _criminal activities_ are discovered and exposed to the authorities."

Lorik Qui'in's mandibles pulled tight into his face, his good-natured smile gone, as he considered the offer. "And what's this going to cost me?"

Kirrahe's lips stretched into a pleased grin. Things had gone even better than he'd hoped. All he had to do now was to reel in his catch. "Oh, just a few favors. Maybe we can have a small chat after your meeting," he said, waving a hand in the general direction of the table and his shipmates around it. "I'm sure we can work out something mutually beneficial."

Lorik gave him a nod, which Kirrahe returned with a small dip of his head before he picked up his mug to dump its contents into the sink. The tea had been a good excuse to spend all this time in the kitchen, but the brew, after being on the stove this long, was absolutely unpalatable.

"So," Bau called out, leaning forward to catch the administrator's attention, "you were saying that you had an idea?"

"Ah, yes." Lorik turned back to the holo image above his arm, and dragged a finger from one suite to the next, highlighting the trail in glowing red. "Every area of the complex is connected by a network of vents. It's a tight fit, but I think it would be possible for a smaller person to climb into one of them and crawl, undetected, from one place to another. And, as luck has it, one of the suites that is next to Dr. Bones' compound is vacant and available for rent right now. So," he continued, glancing about at the small group around him, "you could take a trip there under the pretense of checking it out for your company's purposes, then one of you could get inside the vent system, crawl over to your target's location, and do as much scouting through the grates as you desire."

There was a moment of silence in the room, all eyes focused on the red line blinking brightly on the map as they digested the suggestion, until five heads turned in amazing synchronicity in the lone human's direction.

Shepard let out a resigned sigh. "What?"

Not that she didn't know what was coming. Oh, she knew it very well. But that didn't mean that she couldn't drag her feet at least a little bit about it.

"Well," Garrus started, mandibles flared in a cheeky grin, "you're the smallest. So it will have to be you. I hope you're not scared of small dark spaces."

If not for the audience, Shepard would have probably punched him in the arm. Or the stomach. Or the side—wherever his armor had enough give to let him feel it. Under the circumstances, though, all she could do was grit her teeth and grind out, "If I were, I never would have made it through the N7 training. I'll be fine."

"Excellent," Bau said. "The three of you can leave this evening."

"I can give you a pass for the garage," Lorik offered. "You can take a shuttle or one of our ground vehicles there." He made a swipe on his omni-tool's interface with a finger and pulled up a map of the road from Port Hanshan to the complex. "This is the route you're going to take. Oh¸ and there's one more thing."

Shepard downloaded the map to her own device before she looked up into the administrator's twinkling eyes. "Yes?"

"Don't get caught. Also, if you get injured in the vents, do try to keep the blood off the carpet in that empty suite. I'd still like to rent that place sometime."

Shepard shook her head in feigned indignation, but she couldn't hold back an amused snort.

"I'll do my best."

 

* * *

The recon mission started out well enough. They found the vacant suite without any difficulty and entered with the access code Lorik Qui'in had provided for them.

The administrator had been adamant that they would have the whole place to themselves; no maintenance crew or any other personnel were scheduled to make a visit that day, and any uninvited guests wandering by and trying to get through the doors would be thwarted by the encrypted locks.

Nevertheless, none of them had made it this far in their careers by ignoring the possibility that, even during the most basic of operations, things could go seriously awry, so they decided to get as far away from the entrance as they possibly could before Shepard would make the attempt to open up one of the vent panels and climb inside.

As an extra precaution, Wrex stayed behind in the entry area as a lookout while Shepard and Garrus walked deeper into the compound.

The place was expansive, and it took them quite some time to finally come to the last room. It appeared to have been used as a lab; it looked clean and sterile, with a few large metal tables that had been bolted to the floor and a couple of computer consoles that were still attached to a built-in desk and covered with a heavy plastic sheet to keep the dust out.

They glanced around, searching for the vent grates, and stopped in their tracks when their eyes traveled up to the ceiling. The vents were all up there, high and unreachable—it was going to be a bitch trying to get inside.

Shepard scratched the back of her neck and huffed out a frustrated sigh. "Garrus, I think we'll have to get up on a table and you'll have to give me a lift."

Garrus's mandibles flared out in a smirk and he made a wisecrack about his human teammate's pitiful height, which she reciprocated with a glare and a threat to send him into those tunnels and leave him there if he got stuck, but they eventually clambered up onto one of the tables and he hoisted her up until she could reach the grate and pull it off.

She almost dropped the damn thing on his head when the room suddenly came alive with the loud, obnoxious blare of a klaxon, and the eerie red flashing of an alarm that blinked urgently under the white sheet draped over the computer consoles.

With an annoyed grunt, Garrus swiftly re-deposited his squadmate on the table, then jumped off and launched himself at the computer.

It took him less than five seconds to turn the alarm off; however, the consequences of the breach of security that the removal of the grate had apparently triggered was going to take much longer to deal with.

Shepard stood frozen for a while, still holding the grate in her hands, as she watched Garrus's fingers fly over the input keys. "What the hell was that?"

"Well, your boyfriend forgot to warn us that removing a grate could trigger some security measures. It looks like we're under lockdown now." Shepard ignored her teammate's jab about Lorik Qui'in and herself and glanced at the door. The lock had, indeed, turned red. "There might be other things going on, too. I won't know until I've hacked into the system and found out."

"Shit. Do you think anybody else has heard that awful noise?"

Garrus's fingers stopped their dance as he glanced up at her. "I don't know. But, I doubt it. It was most likely only to alert the people working here."

She gave him a thoughtful nod. "Okay." She finally put the grate down and gestured for him to join her on the table once again. "Come on, help me get up there. I'll do my scouting while you work on the lockdown. Hopefully, you'll be able to fix it by the time I get back. I'd rather not spend the rest of my life here."

"Wouldn't be my idea of fun either," Garrus groused as he walked over to the table and pulled himself up onto its surface. He was relatively certain that he would be able to turn off the security system and open the doors but, if that wasn't possible, they could probably contact the administrator and ask for an evac once they were done with the mission. Shepard, however, didn't have to know that. If she stewed a little bit over the possibility of getting stuck here, and then was impressed by his skills at handling the situation and rescuing their skins, well… he didn't exactly have a problem with that.

He made a scaffold for her with his hands, and hoisted her up when she took hold of his shoulders and stepped onto the impromptu platform. She pulled herself up into the opening, cursing at the "goddamn stupid dress" that got caught for a second before she could climb all the way inside, and disappeared into the darkness.

 

* * *

One hour.

Shepard had been gone for one hour, and Garrus had been pacing for the last half of it.

He'd managed to hack into the system and get everything under control in twenty minutes. Good thing, too, since, as it turned out, part of the security measures for any kind of breach in the old lab was for the computer not only to lock the doors, but also to turn the heat off and freeze whatever abomination might have gotten loose in the room. Even with the built-in heat regulator in his armor, it had started to get really, really cold in there.

Wrex had come by at one point; he'd heard the alarm and, once it was clear that no army was going to charge in through the entrance in response, he'd decided to check and see "what the hell they were doing in that damned place."

Everything was still locked down then, and they were sticking to the radio silence they'd agreed on for the duration of the mission, so all they could do was to shout at each other through the thick, metal door. After a while, the krogan had had enough and lumbered back to his post in the lobby, and Garrus was left alone to cuss and curse at the blasted code until he'd managed to decrypt the lock and turn the heat back on.

Everything was calm and quiet—for exactly five minutes. Then, as if in mockery of his previous efforts, the alarm started to blink in urgent red on the computer's display again.

Garrus rushed to the console, ready to rip the whole thing out in frustrated rage, but stopped short when he read the automated warning that kept flashing up on the screen: There was a blizzard heading their way, and it was strongly advised that everybody in the facility seek shelter, stay off the roads, and, most importantly, keep out of the sensitive areas that would get locked down during a power outage. Areas that, as a precautionary measure, would get their heating turned off to prevent any dangerous life forms from escaping.

Garrus grabbed the edges of the desk as he glowered at the text. If that blizzard hit and they lost power, no hacking skills were going to be able to turn the heat back on. Those few minutes he'd spent while the temperature kept dropping in the lab had made it abundantly clear how unpleasant that would be.

He wondered how close Shepard was to finishing her mission. If she made it back before the storm hit, they could get out of here and wait it out in another room that, even with the power gone, would hopefully stay warm and cozy. He cocked his head and listened carefully for any sign of the human, but heard nothing except the rush of his own blood in his ear canals as his heart hammered wildly in his chest.

He really, really didn't want to get caught in a cold room again.

A quick glance at the door reaffirmed that it still glowed a reassuring green. He could walk out right now, while he had the chance, and, should the worst happen, he could return with Wrex and they could try to pry open the door… while Shepard stood there on the other side, shivering and slowly turning into an icicle.

He shook his head and began to pace. There was no way he could leave her here to freeze to death. She might be annoying sometimes, but she was still his teammate. Besides, she wasn't so bad. In fact, she was smart, funny, a good fighter, and, for a human, not half bad looking.

He stopped in his tracks and let out a frustrated sigh as he ran his fingers over his brow plates. She'd better get back here before he got any more of these crazy ideas. He resumed his pacing and didn't stop for half an hour, when he finally heard a clank up above and Shepard's head appeared in the opening she'd disappeared into.

"Hey," she said. Her face looked dirty and her voice sounded tired, but there was a satisfied smile on her lips. "Give me a hand?"

Garrus hurried over and climbed up onto the table. Shepard turned around and started to lower herself, feet first, and he grabbed her by the waist to help her down.

He tried not to linger over the fact that his hands could almost fully encircle her waist, and he put her down gently on the metal surface.

"Oh, good, I see you managed to lift the lockdown," she said, jerking her head at the door.

Garrus gave her a quick nod before he hopped down to the floor. "Yes. For now. But, we'd better hurry before—"

He didn't get to finish that sentence. The room filled with the loud blaring of that damned alarm once more before the noise suddenly cut out, the room fell dark, and that cheery green glow turned to an ominous red again.

_Damn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter took this long to post. Health and RL issues made writing a bit difficult at times, plus, as I've found, it's not that easy to come up with logical and believable plotlines for an AU story. :D
> 
> But I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter - and yes, this was, besides Lorik Qui'in, the other reason for them to come to Noveria. ;) 
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for her help with this chapter!


	11. Survival Skills

Garrus couldn't hold in the annoyed groan tickling the back of his throat as he glowered at the lock on the door. The stubbornly red light, the only source of illumination in the darkened space at the moment, flickered on and off a few times before it settled on a dimmer glow. Its power must be supplied by an emergency generator somewhere else in the building, he supposed, to make sure that whatever horrors they used to house in the lab stayed within these walls.

A quick glance around confirmed his suspicion: other than that lock, which, unlike before, was most likely controlled by an outside console now, absolutely nothing worked in here anymore. The computers were totally dead, their power cut when the electricity went down. That was more than unfortunate; without them, it would be impossible to hack into the facility's security system and do something about that cursed door.

Mandibles fluttering in displeasure, he turned around to divert his attention back to his teammate. "Well, we're officially screwed."

Shepard crouched down and touched the surface of the table to get her bearings before she slowly climbed off of her perch. Eyes as big as saucers and pupils dilated wide as she strained to see in the sudden darkness, she held onto the table's edge with one hand while she carefully stretched out her other arm to feel around her. "What happened? I thought you fixed the damned lockdown."

Garrus watched in mild amusement as she fumbled around. His own eyes had taken only a few seconds to adjust to the loss of light, and for a brief moment he considered making a wisecrack about her kind's inferior vision. In the end, he decided against it. The situation was dire enough already; he didn't need to add to the tension by making a stupid joke.

He reached out and touched her hand to let her know where he was, and she latched onto him as though he had thrown her a life preserver in a vicious storm.

"I did fix it," he said with a sigh.

She stepped closer to the sound of his voice, still clinging to his hand. The way his wrist was forced to twist to accommodate her grip was a bit uncomfortable, but Garrus found he didn't really mind. In fact, he had to admit that he quite enjoyed the sensation of her fingers wrapping around his own.

"But," he went on, tamping down a soft growl that was beginning to build up in his chest, "while you were crawling around the vents, taking your sweet time, we had a blizzard blow in and knock the power out. As it turns out, that means the lab is quarantined now. We're locked in, with no power and, most importantly, no heat, for who knows how long."

Shepard blew out a sharp breath. "Well, that's just fucking peachy."

Garrus tilted his head as he waited for his translator to catch up with that term. Ah. Humans and their weird expressions. "Yeah. I guess we shouldn't have chosen this room to find a vent access."

He felt her hand twitch as she shrugged her shoulders. "Too late to worry about that now. The question is, what the hell are we going to do?"

"I don't think there's a whole lot we can do besides wait the storm out. Once the blizzard has passed, we can call for an evac."

She released his hand to lift her arm and turn on her omni-tool. Garrus tried not to broadcast his disappointment, but couldn't quite suppress the unhappy thrum that welled up in his chest at the loss of her touch. He hoped she hadn't heard it.

Whether she had or had not, let alone understood its meaning, she opened up her messaging program without a comment.

"Maybe we won't have to wait that long," she said as her fingers flew over the haptic keys. "The administrator might be able to give us some sort of master code to release the lock."

Garrus pulled his mandibles tight into his face. By evac he'd meant the kind that would come with a blowtorch; he hadn't planned on having Lorik Qui'in play the role of their rescuer. But, if he had to choose between letting another man be the hero or freezing to death, well, the decision wasn't really that hard. There was still one little problem, though.

"Except that these kinds of locks don't have a direct interface," he pointed out. "So, with the lab's computers down, even if you managed to contact Qui'in right now, we would have no way of inputting that code."

Shepard shook her head, but didn't look up. "I actually had Wrex in mind for that job. He's not exactly a tech expert, but he could certainly enter a few keys into a console. Lorik Qui'in would just need to forward the combination to him and then—" Her fingers stopped their graceful dance in the air and her eyebrows pulled into an angry frown. The orange glow lit up her face, giving it a warm tint despite the dropping temperature in the room as she stared unhappily at the screen. "Dammit. There's no reception."

Garrus gave her a slow nod of acknowledgement, forgetting that she probably couldn't see beyond the halo of her omni-tool. "I guess the communication relays are getting interference from the wind and the snow in the atmosphere."

Shepard turned off her messaging program with a groan. "Figures." She left on a dim light on her omni-tool's interface for some low-level illumination, and chewed on her bottom lip as she considered their plight. "Our short wave radios might still work," she finally said. "I'll try to talk to Wrex. Once the storm has passed, he could make an attempt to contact the administrator, or, if there's still a problem with communications, he could take the shuttle back to the port to get help."

Without waiting for an answer from Garrus, she reached up to tap on her earpiece. It didn't take long before the krogan's rumbling voice came over the radio.

"Shepard."

"Wrex. Good to hear your voice."

Not uncharacteristically, Wrex ignored her relieved greeting and cut straight to the chase. "What the hell took you so long? Are you done, finally?"

Shepard let out an exasperated sigh. She was not in the mood for the krogan's cranky attitude right now. "Had a few close calls in the vents, but I'm fine, thanks for asking." She rolled her shoulders and dropped the sarcasm from her voice. "What's your status?"

"Well, the power went out, but the generators kicked in, so there's some heat and emergency lighting. Wouldn't mind getting out of here, though. You?"

"No power, no lighting, no heat. And the door's locked."

"Huh."

"Yeah. And that's where you come in. Once communications are back up, you need to contact Lorik Qui'in. He might be able to send you a code so you can disable this stupid lock from one of the consoles in the facility. If that doesn't work, get a damn blowtorch."

Garrus half-listened to the rest of the conversation as he mulled over their predicament. Getting that code was one thing; surviving in the rapidly dropping temperature until rescue came was quite another.

With a heating unit inside his armor, he was fairly certain that he would be able to make it for at least a few hours, but Shepard, wearing nothing but that uninsulated dress, wasn't so lucky. She'd already started shivering, he'd noticed earlier, and now that she'd finished her discussion with Wrex, she began rubbing her arms to bring a little bit of warmth to her body while her shoulders slouched forward to expose as little of herself to the cold as was possible.

He had no idea what the average length of time was that humans could withstand temperatures like these without some kind of protective gear, but judging by the way she was acting right now, he figured it couldn't be too long.

He switched on the thermal sensor on his visor to get a reading on her core temperature. It didn't look good. Not that he was any kind of expert on human physiology, but numbers certainly indicated that she was quickly losing body heat.

Something had to be done; he couldn't just stand there, waiting for her to freeze to death.

He looked around the room, scanning their environment for something, anything, to help them survive this situation. All he could see was a sea of blue; everything in here was made out of metal, and it was all already as cold as the air around them.

Except… His eyes snapped back to the door. It was the only thing that had an actual heat signature, albeit very faint, in this whole place right now.

He blinked as he contemplated their only piece of good fortune in this disaster. Of course. The door still had some electrical current running through it to keep the lock alive. That must be why it had stayed at a higher temperature than anything else in the room. It wouldn't exactly keep them warm, but if they hunkered down against it, they would not have their backs frozen solid as they leaned against its surface.

He looked back at Shepard. She was pacing up and down now, still rubbing her arms, trying to keep the blood flowing to her extremities and generate a little bit of heat. It was the smart thing to do; physical activity could definitely help some to keep the chill out of her bones. He just didn't know how long she could keep it up under these circumstances; he was pretty sure that they were going to be in here for quite a while.

No, he had a better idea—provided he could actually make it work.

He turned off the thermal scan and walked over to the computer desk. Gathering up the heavy sheet that he'd discarded when he'd had to hack into the alarm system before, he marched back to Shepard's side and grabbed her hand to guide her to the door.

She followed him with a startled grunt. "What are you d-doing?"

"I have a plan," he said as he pushed her down onto the floor against the door and spread the sheet over her shivering body.

She must have been too cold to argue because she sat quietly—until he began to unlatch the chest piece of his armor. With the low level of light, she still couldn't see him very well, but she turned her head towards the hissing sound when he popped open a seal.

"Wh-what was th-that?" she asked, her teeth clicking together and her breath coming out in stuttering huffs as she tried to speak through the shivers.

"There's a heating unit in my chest piece," Garrus said. The cold air hit his torso as he removed the part, and he redoubled his efforts to finish the job as quickly as he could. "I'm going to rig it so it will stay on without being connected to the rest of the circuitry in my armor. I thought we could use it to keep us warm."

He could see that she tried to say something but changed her mind, and merely gave him a nod. His fingers were getting a bit stiff, but he pushed on, and managed to close the circuit with the heat still on.

"Here," he said, shoving the piece under the sheet.

He quickly removed the rest of his armor—the metal would get too cold now, without the heating unit to warm it up anymore—and dove under the plastic cover. He settled down on the floor next to Shepard, and pressed against her side to share their body heat.

"You're… you're warm," she muttered, pushing herself a bit closer.

It didn't take long before she stopped shivering and her breathing became more regular. So far his improvised contraption seemed to work; it wasn't exactly tropical heat under the sheet, but it was certainly much warmer than in the rest of the room.

Shepard looked up at him and kept her eyes focused on his face until he turned his head to glance down at her. "Something wrong?"

"You didn't have to do that. You could have just kept your heated armor on. You took a risk by messing with the circuitry just to save me from freezing. You're all right, Garrus Vakarian."

Garrus's mandibles stretched out into a cheeky grin. "Well, you know… I didn't want to have to answer to Bau and your Alliance about your demise. You wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork and red tape I'd have to deal with." She chuckled, which made his grin even wider. "Just don't try—"

"Anything," she said. "You're not into humans. I know. I'll try to restrain myself."

They shared a laugh, then fell into a comfortable silence.

Garrus broke the quiet after a few moments. "So, how did the recon go?"

"Well, I got the layout and the distribution of his people pretty well, I think. I'll draw a map once we're back on the ship."

"There you go—one more reason to keep you alive," Garrus threw in with a drawl.

"Gee, thanks. Nice to know where your priorities lie."

"No problem." He gave a pleased chuckle at the grumbling sounds she made in feigned indignation. When she quieted down, he nudged her shoulder with his own. "You said you had some close calls?"

"Yeah. Besides trying to avoid being heard and having to wait out these two idiots who _would not_ shut up and get away from the vent grates, I also had to dodge a set of nasty looking fan blades in one of the passages, avoid cutting myself on a bunch of sharp teeth and bones of some kind of dead creature at an intersection, and oh, yeah, there was that time when I got lost in the dark and almost fell to my death because I couldn't see a vertical shaft."

She thumped her head against the door with a tired sigh. Apparently, she'd had quite an adventure, and was hoping for at least a little bit of sympathy now.

"Well," Garrus said after a moment of silence, "all I can say is, I hope you're not bleeding. I'd rather not have to listen to Lorik Qui'in squawk about blood stains on his precious carpet."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite hold back an amused snort even as she thrust a sharp elbow into his side. It hit a sensitive spot right between two plates, but he managed to bite back the startled moan that threatened to escape his throat.

"You're such an ass."

"I thought I was all right."

"Yeah, well, I've changed my mind."

Garrus's mandibles opened wide in a grin, and without thinking, he brushed the side of his head against the top of hers with a soft purr. "Nah, I'm glad you're all right."

For a split second he thought he felt her body tense, and wondered if he'd stepped over some kind of boundary. As it turned out, he needn't have worried. She relaxed and pressed back against him, reciprocating his gesture, and laid a gentle hand over his.

"Thanks."

He expected her to remove her hand at any moment, but she didn't. She let its warmth sink into his bones, and he sat there, staring at that alien appendage, wondering when it had become this natural, this _right,_ to have her strange, small hand with the too many fingers drape like that around his own.

He closed his eyes and let out a long, deep sigh. He might not have had a thing for humans, or any other race outside his own, but he was beginning to think that maybe, _maybe_ , he had a thing for _her._

Spirits help him, but he was in trouble.

Shepard looked up at him, her brows raised in concern. "You okay?"

He opened his eyes and peered down at her. "Yeah, I'm just…" He rubbed the back of his neck with an embarrassed grimace. "I'm just a little cold."

That wasn't exactly a lie—he _had_ started to get a bit chilly. His contraption was still doing its duty in keeping them from freezing, but it couldn't generate quite enough heat to actually make him call the temperature under the sheet _warm_.

Shepard appeared to be considering something for a moment, fixing a thoughtful gaze on him while she sucked her lower lip in between her flat, white teeth, before she gave him a determined nod and began to move around. "All right. Let's try something else."

Her fidgeting caused the cover to slide down, giving free reign to the vicious bite of the cold air. Garrus started to groan out a warning about the sudden change in the temperature, but the words froze on his tongue when she crawled over him and settled down between his legs, pushing them further apart to make room for herself. He sat, stunned, as she squirmed around until she found a good spot, then leaned her back against his chest, a little bit to the side to avoid the sharp jut of his keel bone.

She grabbed his arms and folded them around herself, completing the tight circle of their bodies, and exhaled a satisfied sigh. "There. We can share a little more body heat this way. I hope it's okay with you?"

He had to clear his throat before he could answer. "I, uh, yeah, it's fine. Thank you."

People—well, mostly turians and krogan—often said that humans were soft and squishy. Garrus had no idea if that was true for other specimens of her kind but, in Shepard's case, at least, that old notion couldn't have been further from the truth.

She felt firm and solid enough as he carefully tightened his arms around her for a brief moment then let go, pretending to be merely flexing his body to find a comfortable position for himself. There was muscle and hard bone underneath those clothes, he was sure of that, though there was definitely more give to his light squeeze than there would have been with a female of his own species.

That thought didn't help; it brought back memories of a much more intimate nature with a certain recon scout he used to know, and now he couldn't stop wondering how it would feel to touch his human teammate the same way he had—

"Garrus?" Shepard asked, turning her head to glance up at him from the corner of her eye.

Garrus realized, a bit too late, that she'd been talking to him this whole time. He gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, what?"

"Palaven. Does it ever get cold there?"

His eyes drifted off into the darkness as he thought back to his childhood. "No, not really. At least, not like this. Sure, sometimes the temperature drops down a few degrees, but most of the time, it's a pretty warm place. How about on—" He cut himself off when he remembered where she was from; he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to dredge up her painful past right now.

"Mindoir?" she asked, finishing his sentence. She was quiet for a moment, and he kicked himself for not thinking before he opened his mouth, but when she started to speak, there was no sign of emotional distress in her voice. "Well, it didn't get as cold as here—or in some parts of Earth, for that matter—but we did have some snow in the winter."

She leaned back against his shoulder as she talked about her good memories, of snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, whatever those things meant, but with her soft, silky hair brushing the side of his face and her sweet, flowery scent drifting enticingly into his nostrils, he found it nearly impossible to concentrate on her voice.

His attention snapped back to her when she said something about all of that being gone now. He pressed his chin to the top of her head and ran his hands up and down her arms in what he hoped was a universally comforting gesture. "I'm sorry."

She dropped a hand onto his knee and patted it lightly. "Thanks."

They fell silent. Mentally, he knew that it was time to stop caressing her arms, but his hands refused to obey his brain. They continued trailing over the smooth fabric of her sleeves, and he couldn't stop wondering how much softer, how much smoother her skin might feel underneath.

She didn't seem to mind; in fact, she melted into his touch with what sounded like a happy little sigh. When his thumb accidentally skimmed over a small, hard nub on her chest, however, she straightened up with a gasp.

Garrus immediately stopped. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

He could hear her swallow before she answered. "Yes. No. I mean, I'm fine. It's just that you touched a… sensitive area."

Garrus cocked his head as he considered her words. What she'd said was quite… intriguing. "Sensitive as in, sensitive to pain? Or… something else?"

She had to take another gulp before she could answer. When she did, she sounded embarrassed. "It's an, umm, erogenous zone."

"Oh." _Oh._ Dammit, that made his plates start to shift. "Uh, sorry."

"It's okay." She turned her head slightly to look up at him with a small, self-conscious smirk. "At least it made me feel a little warmer. I guess… there's more than one way to keep warm."

Garrus's jaws went slack. Was that an invitation? He wasn't sure. Had she been a turian, it most certainly would have been; but with humans? He had no idea. Still, ever the curious experimenter, he decided to take a chance.

At the same time, he had no intentions of invoking Shepard's wrath if he was wrong, so he chose the safest path and wrapped his proposition in a half-hearted joke. "If you're cold and it helps, I can do that again."

She let out a throaty laugh. "How kind of you."

Garrus's mandibles stretched wide in a pleased grin. So far, so good. No clear yes, but at least she hadn't outright rejected his proposal.

He waited for her to say something more, but when she didn't, he lowered his head to nuzzle her neck right below her earlobe. Spirits, she smelled good. "Are you _cold_ , Shepard?" he purred, letting his breath ghost over her skin.

He could feel a sudden shiver run down her spine, and he was pretty sure it wasn't because of the low temperature in the room. After two agonizing heartbeats' worth of hesitation, she finally breathed out an answer.

"I'm _freezing_."

Garrus's chest thrummed loudly as an unexpected wave of happiness and desire surged through his veins. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent, and slowly, gingerly, slid his hands up her arms again. When she didn't stop him, he gradually extended a thumb in search of that hard little protrusion he'd encountered before, and ran a careful talon over and around its shape when he found it.

She must have been holding her breath until now, for she let out a strangled gasp at his touch. Her fingers dug into his thighs tight enough for him to feel it, and he reciprocated with a happy little purr and a small lick at the patch of skin that was left exposed above her dress's collar.

She shivered under his tongue and sank her fingers deeper into his legs before she relaxed her hold and moved her hand higher. His own plates shifted further apart in response, but he tried to ignore that; this was about _her_ , not his own needs, so he made another pass with his thumb, taking his time to carefully trace the outline of that intriguing shape.

He was rewarded with another shudder and another, deeper gasp. Emboldened by her reaction, he decided to take the next step, and slowly moved his hands over the two mounds on her chest. He cupped them, marveling at their weight, and squeezed gently.

He found the contrast between that stiff little peak and the supple flesh around it quite fascinating. He was well aware of human men's obsession with this part of their females' anatomy, but he'd never quite understood the attraction. Now, he was slowly beginning to see the appeal. There was something sensual, something intensely satisfying about the way the soft tissue molded itself to his hands, and he adored the needy moans and sighs he was able to coax out of her with every little twitch, every little squeeze of his fingers.

Her own hands shifted down from the top of his legs to his inner thighs. Whether she knew what to look for, or whether it was by accident, she found the unplated skin there, and stroked it through the fabric of his pants with agonizing perfection.

The rumble in Garrus's chest intensified as her small, agile digits moved higher and higher, closer and closer to the spot that ached to be touched, and he had to take a few deep breaths to keep from spilling out of his sheath already.

Once he felt in control again, he bent down and gently nipped at her neck as he continued his exploration of her body and his hands slowly skimmed down to her waist.

Her reaction, unfortunately, was rather disappointing. Apparently, a tender caress to this area turned humans into a laughing, writhing mess—not exactly the kind of response he'd been looking for.

He withdrew his hands with a frustrated groan and leaned back against the door while he waited for her to calm down.

It took her a few seconds to catch her breath and stop squirming around. "Sorry," she said finally. "I'm a little ticklish there."

"Is that a human thing?" Garrus asked. "Maybe I can use it the next time I have to incapacitate someone on the Citadel."

Shepard chuckled and shook her head as she began moving around again. Thankfully, this time she held onto the sheet to prevent the cold air from getting in, and didn't let go even as she turned around to face him.

She climbed onto his lap and straddled his hips, and then draped the cover around them. "You can always try," she said, her eyes crinkling with mirth, "but it might not work with everyone. Some people have it bad. Others might not be susceptible at all."

He huffed out an unhappy sigh. Just his luck then to get one of those humans that belonged to the "have it bad" category. "I see."

Still smiling, she cradled his face in both hands and brushed his colony markings with her thumbs. She seemed lost in her thoughts as she studied his features, fingers slowly dancing over his mandibles and facial plates, around his eyes, and up to his brow.

He watched her watch him, absorbed in her own world, and couldn't help but wonder what it was she really saw when she looked at him.

Her eyes eventually trailed down to his mouth. "Do turians kiss?" she asked.

"Not really, no."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. She was quiet for a few moments as she contemplated his answer, her gaze lingering wistfully on his mouth plates. Finally, she looked up into his eyes with a timid smile. "Do you want to try?"

Garrus cocked his head as he pondered the question. Had he ever had the inclination to exchange saliva with another person—especially an alien? No. Was he interested in trying it with _her_? Hell, yes.

His mandibles flared out in a grin. "Yeah. Definitely."

She nodded, her face beaming with relief, and leaned in. Garrus closed his eyes, ready for this new experience; Shepard, however, seemed to have other plans.

The first kiss landed under his left eye; the second, on his right mandible. The sensation of her soft lips brushing over his tough plates was quite nice, but this wasn't exactly what he'd expected. He wondered if he had the concept of kissing down wrong, but before he could open his eyes and ask about it, she'd already moved on to the next phase of her operation.

His heart skipped a beat when her lips pressed against his mouth and her tongue sneaked out to touch his skin. He'd seen plenty of humans do this to each other, and, to a lesser extent, to asari, and never, not once, had he wished he was on the receiving end of this act. Now? He didn't want her to stop.

He flicked out his own tongue to meet hers, and hummed happily when she reacted with a moan and a harder press against him. Her hands moved to his neck, then around to the underside of his fringe. When her fingers began to massage the sensitive skin in between the hardened scales, he let out a needy groan of his own.

His hands moved down to her lower back, and he couldn't stop himself from tightening his grip on her as their tongues slid against each other. He worried for a second that her ticklishness might interrupt their tender moment again, but this time the only response she had to his touch was to sigh against his mouth and dig her fingernails into his tough hide.

His chest rumbled with desire and his shaft, chased back behind his plates during her previous laughing session, began to emerge from its sheath again.

He pulled back from the kiss to nip at her throat, and began to slowly shift his hands down to her bottom. She threw her head back with a moan in reply and arched her back, starting to trail one of her own hands down his front.

He trembled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. He wasn't fully unsheathed yet, and he didn't have the slightest clue whether she had any knowledge about this aspect of turian anatomy. During his military and, especially, his C-Sec career, he'd learned enough about her species to know that human males had it out all the time, which provided a convenient target for a debilitating attack, but what about her? How much did she know about what to expect? Would she find it odd, or worse, even repulsive, how different he was in this respect?

He sucked in a nervous breath, and dammit, that didn't help at all in making him relaxed and helping things along.

As it turned out, there was no reason for concern. Before her deft little fingers could reach their destination, the door, that trusty, solid door that they'd been leaning against all this time, suddenly slid open, and they tumbled through it in a tangle of limbs and plastic sheet.

They landed with a groan and a moan right in front of a pair of armored krogan feet.

For a moment, there was a stunned silence as they stared up into Wrex's red eyes. He gaped down at them, but all too soon, his lips stretched into a grin, then opened wide into a toothy, rumbling laugh.

"Damn, people, if you wanted to have some privacy, you could have just told me. There was no need for this charade about a lockdown."

He was still laughing as he pulled Shepard up. Her cheeks turned bright red but, surprisingly, she didn't say a word in retort. Instead, she avoided all eye contact and devoted an inordinate amount of time and attention to smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress.

Garrus shot an annoyed glare at Wrex before he gathered himself up.

"You could have let us know that you were coming."

Wrex guffawed as he made a sweeping gesture in the general direction of the spot on the floor where he'd found them. "And miss this?"

Garrus didn't bother biting back the annoyed growl that erupted in his chest. Sometimes he really, really, _really_ hated that damn krogan.

Actually, scratch that—he hated him _all the time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great big thanks to Suilven for the beta and her help!


	12. Coordination, Cooperation, and Blood on the Carpet

The entire trip back to the ship, Wrex would _not_ wipe that stupid grin off his face.

It was annoying as all hell, but Shepard knew better than to prolong his fun by reacting to his provocation. Frankly, she was more concerned about Garrus. If the agitated clicking of his mandibles and the irate glares he kept throwing at the krogan were any indication, he was nearing the very end of his patience, and the last thing she needed right now was a pissing match between these two.

Thankfully, once they'd finally boarded, everyone's, including Wrex's, attention diverted to her report, and as soon as they began talking strategy, all was forgotten about that whole embarrassing incident with the door—or, at least, so she hoped.

"Should make our move now, while employees are still in bed," Mordin said, raising a slender finger into the air for emphasis. "Easier to confine them to sleeping quarters."

Bau gave a quick nod. "Agreed. We could also take advantage of the storm and the resulting blackout." He pulled up the holo image of the complex on his omni-tool that Lorik Qui'in had provided for them and pointed at the long hallway leading from the central hub to the entry door. "No doubt there will be security cameras somewhere along here that we'll need to disable to avoid being detected upon approach. If we're lucky, the guards will attribute the loss of surveillance feed to some electrical problems caused by the power outage."

Garrus's gaze shifted from Bau's omni-tool to the map Shepard had drawn of the suite of offices, sleeping quarters, and labs. It was an extensive place, with maze-like corridors and several guard's stations scattered all over. Saleon's room, unfortunately (and, if he had to wager a guess, not by accident), was in the back, close to the escape shuttle's bay.

Garrus dragged a finger along the route from the entrance door to the control room, set deep inside the compound as well. "Even if we can get in without alerting the guards, they will catch on sooner or later, and by the time we get to the hatch controls, Saleon might have already flown out."

Bau's head dipped in another nod. "Yes. Locking down the hatch and preventing our target's escape is a priority." His gaze flicked over to Shepard. She resisted rolling her eyes and blowing out a sigh; she was going to get volunteered again for duct duty, she just knew it. "Commander Shepard, you'll have to get back into the air vents and disable those controls from the inside before we enter the complex."

Shepard bit back a groan of ' _I knew it'_ and tried not to think of the dirt, animal droppings, and weird bones she'd have to crawl over again on that long trek through the dark. She clenched her teeth, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and leaned back on one hip. "Understood."

 

* * *

That damned dress couldn't come off fast enough.

It had been a long day, and she hadn't eaten in quite a while, but Shepard ignored her growling stomach and rushed to the crew quarters to change. By the time Wrex and Garrus came in to swap their temporary armors provided by the STG for their trusty old sets, she had already pulled on her undersuit and was happily snapping the pieces of her own equipment in place.

She felt infinitely more comfortable now that she was covered by the sturdy metal instead of that flimsy outfit, and walked out to the mess hall in a much better mood, ready to take on whatever the rest of this crazy day had in store for her.

She found Mordin Solus, Jondum Bau, and Captain Kirrahe in the kitchen already.

The professor's and the Spectre's presence were expected; the STG captain's, however, was not. He'd been absent during their strategy meeting, but now here he was, calmly examining his pistol as he leaned against the kitchen counter next to the other two salarians.

Before Shepard could even raise an eyebrow at the implications of that, Wrex and Garrus came in.

As soon as he'd noticed his nemesis, Wrex let out a displeased grumble. "What's he doing here?" he growled, skewering the captain with a fierce gaze and jabbing a finger in his direction.

Jondum Bau pulled himself up to his full height and shifted ever so slightly to insert himself between Kirrahe and Wrex while he stared the krogan down. "With the expanse of the suite's layout and the number of guards, I thought we could use the extra gun. Captain Kirrahe has agreed to join our mission. I, however, am still in charge."

Wrex seemed none too happy with this newest development but, after a few annoyed grunts, he finally relented. "Fine. Just don't get in my way."

The captain's lips pressed together into a thin line. "I have no intentions of doing that."

"Good." Wrex turned away from the salarian and pretended to pay him no further attention.

They checked their weapons one last time, stuffed their pouches with spare ammo—Shepard slid a few ration bars into her pockets as well for the shuttle ride—and, for the first time since they'd arrived, they all disembarked.

It took a late night call to Lorik Qui'in to convince the Port Security guards to allow their heavily armed group through, but eventually they were let in, though not without a few heated glares and scathing remarks.

It must have been a strange, if not terrifying, sight as their group, all gleaming metal and deadly determination, marched through the corridors on their way to the shuttle garage.

Not that there were a lot of people around to witness the event at this hour. The port was quiet and nearly deserted, with only a handful of guards—who were more annoyed than intimidated by their appearance—pacing the hallways, and a few inebriated bar patrons that stumbled out of a drinking establishment, too drunk to pay much attention to anything else except their own pitiful efforts to stay upright.

Thankfully, the central hub of Peak 16 was equally empty.

They only encountered a sole maintenance worker when they arrived, but even he disappeared behind a side door in a few seconds, and they were left alone in the large hall.

With no eyewitnesses around, and little time to waste, they decided to pass up going back to the empty suite and chose an air vent access in an out-of-way corner for Shepard to climb into.

As luck would have it, the ceilings were lower here than in the lab, so it only took a lift and a shove from Garrus and Wrex to help her get up high enough to be able to remove the grate and pull herself up into the dark hole.

"Good luck," Bau said before he joined the other salarians, already on their way down the hall towards the corridor that lead to Dr. Saleon's offices.

Shepard was about to move out as well when Wrex's voice drifted up into the gloomy darkness around her.

"Shepard. Try not to lock yourself up in a room. It wouldn't be as much fun without your boyfriend here."

She bent down to shoot him a disapproving scowl, but he was already walking away, his shoulders shaking with boundless mirth. Her gaze shifted over into Garrus's furious face, and their eyes met for a moment before he, too, turned around and stomped after the krogan.

Shepard shook her head and let out a heavy sigh as she started moving down the vent in the dark.

All she could do now was hope that those two weren't going to kill each other before all this was over.

 

* * *

Crawling through the vents in full armor wasn't the easiest thing to do. True, she didn't have to struggle with that stupid dress getting caught on every little thing but, on the other hand, her stiff knee pads clinking against the metal surface of the ductwork made much more noise than she would have liked.

She tried to move as quietly as she could, stopping whenever she heard a patrolling guard pass by. It was a slow process, but at least this time she'd started much closer to her destination. The path was a bit different, coming from this direction, but she managed not to get lost, and it wasn't too long before she finally made it to her objective.

She peeked into the control room through the grate to check for guards, and found a turian and a salarian sitting at a table in the middle of the decent-sized space, playing cards.

The turian was leaning back casually in his seat, legs crossed and feet propped up on the table as he rocked his chair back and forth with all the nonchalant aloofness of someone not the least bit worried about a hostile invasion.

That was a good sign, especially considering that some of the monitors behind him were merely broadcasting static right now. The only surveillance feedback still working were of the internal corridors and the shuttle bay in the back. Shepard hoped that meant that Bau and the team had managed to override the outside cameras as they made their way to the entry door. The fact that the guard didn't seem to be concerned about the loss of coverage bode quite well for the operation; maybe Bau was right, and Saleon's people attributed the issue with the cameras to some electrical problems left over by the storm.

The salarian, however, seemed more concerned about the situation. He glanced up from his cards and shook his head as his eyes wandered over to those blank screens behind his teammate's reclining form.

"I still don't like it," he said. "Somebody could be coming up to the doors and we wouldn't know it."

The turian shook his head as he slapped one of his cards down, adding to the pile accumulating between them on the table. "Relax. I'm sure it's just some glitch in the system. If somebody wanted to attack, they would have done it during the blackout. Besides," he added with a shrug, "Sellaros and Balar have already gone to investigate."

Well, shit. That wasn't very good news. Shepard had planned to slowly remove the grate, drop down onto the desk below, and incapacitate the guards as silently as she could before she'd lock down the controls, then make her way to their rendezvous point without triggering any alarms. If the team was about to be discovered, however, bullets were going to start flying much sooner than she'd thought.

Suddenly, disabling the hatch controls became even more urgent than before, so, instead of taking the time to carefully push out the vent cover, she pulled back her right leg, then snapped it out in a powerful kick, sending the grate flying into the middle of the room. Before the guards could even comprehend what was happening, she tossed a flashbang grenade in through the opening, and, once her opponents were down, dazed and sprawled out on the floor, she launched herself into the room.

The turian was the first one to recover. He flipped the table on its side and dove behind it, his previous relaxed posture gone in a flash as he yanked out his sidearm and began firing at Shepard's position.

She dove behind the desk and console combo she'd landed on, switched on her tech armor, and set up a cryo blast before she jumped up and sent the super-cooled particles in her opponents' direction.

They froze as they were; the turian leaning out from behind cover, his gun aimed right at her head, and the salarian standing up with an outstretched arm, undoubtedly in preparation of sending out some kind of a biotic blast.

Shepard pumped a volley of bullets into their chilled bodies, and they shattered in a satisfying, icy explosion.

Two down, a lot more to go.

She took a deep breath to calm her rapidly beating heart, and walked over to the main controls. It took her only a few seconds to find the hatch release. Instead of wasting time hacking into the menus and locking them down, then planting an encryption code to prevent someone else from enabling the opening sequence again, she raised her pistol and fired a few well-placed shots at the machinery.

Once the display had gone black with a disdainful screech, she tapped on her earpiece with a satisfied smile.

"Shepard here. The escape hatch has been disabled."

"Good work, Commander," Bau's voice crackled in her ear. "We're moving in."

"Copy tha—"

Before she could finish, the door behind her slid open and one of the largest krogans she'd ever seen charged in with a roar.

_Oh, shit._

 

* * *

After the sound of that deafening bellow and a loud crash afterwards, the sudden silence was almost unbearable.

Bau tapped on his radio and called out Shepard's name again and again, but there was no answer.

Garrus's jaws clenched tightly and his hands tensed into anxious fists by his side. "That sounded like a krogan," he hissed out.

Wrex gave him a dark look. "Yep. And he was charging."

Garrus's talons dug deeper into the palms of his hands, but he didn't even feel it.

"All right," Bau said, running his fingers over his forehead with a barely suppressed sigh. "Slight change of plans." He blinked his large eyes at his turian protégé. "Officer Vakarian, take Urdnot Wrex with you and see what's going on in the control room. Help Commander Shepard, if you can. Meanwhile, Professor Solus will lock down the sleeping quarters and Captain Kirrahe and myself will start making our way into the compound. We'll rendezvous in the back, at Dr. Saleon's room."

Wrex let out an ill-tempered growl. "No. I'm here to get Saleon. I'm going after him right now."

The Spectre regarded the krogan with a hard gaze for a moment before he gave him a terse nod. "Fine. Captain Kirrahe will go with Vakarian and you'll come with me."

He turned around without another word and marched up to the door, stepping over the two dead mercs' bodies sprawled out, limp and bloody, on the floor. He palmed the control panel, and when the door slid open with a swoosh, he stepped inside.

The entry lobby was quiet and empty, and he waved a hand to signal his team to proceed.

Before he followed the salarian, Wrex paused for a second and fixed his red eyes on Garrus. "She's strong. She'll be fine."

Garrus gave him a slow nod, which the old krogan returned with a solemn tip of his head before he turned around and stalked after the Spectre with surprisingly careful steps.

 

* * *

 

The calm only lasted a couple of minutes.

Garrus and Kirrahe only made it down one corridor before they encountered their first group of enemy combatants. It wasn't a large force, at least, not yet, and between Garrus's assault rifle and Kirrahe's magic pistol that spat out little balls of explosives that stuck to the unlucky bastards' armor before they detonated (spirits, how Garrus wished he had one of those) they cleared out the space in no time.

They moved on, but couldn't walk more than a few steps before they were stopped again and were forced to find any cover they could to escape the heavy hail of bullets raining down on their position.

Garrus ground his teeth as he waited for a break in the fire, head low behind the shipping crate that had been mercifully left lying around a few feet from a door—probably its final destination. Every minute, every second felt like criminally wasted time while Shepard could be struggling for her life, or worse, lying in a pool of blood, already too late for help to arrive.

He shook his head, as though the action could dislodge those unsettling thoughts from his brain. It wasn't like he hadn't had to deal with these kinds of situations before. Having a comrade's life in danger was an unfortunate part of military life and of his C-Sec career, so why was he so anxious now? Besides, Wrex was right: she was a good fighter, quite strong for a human; she could certainly take care of herself…right?

And yet, despite all the self-assurances that she was—probably—fine, and all the mental berating of himself for even having these concerns in the first place, his mind refused to let go of the terrifying image of that enraged krogan charging Shepard's soft human body. As soon as the rate of gunfire had dropped off even a little bit, he popped out of cover and sent a wave of energy in the direction of their attackers to overload their shields and jam their weapons, then unloaded a full heatsink into their miserable, worthless little bunch.

Kirrahe joined his assault by lobbing a grenade into the enemy's midst, and after that there was nothing but fire and smoke and eerie silence.

They looked at each other and waited for a second before they stepped out into the open space again and approached, guns still drawn, the blackened remains of their assailants and the large metal boxes they'd been hiding behind.

Garrus nudged a body with the toe of his boot. There was no movement, not even half a breath exhaled. Satisfied that there would be no more trouble coming from this group, he signaled for the salarian behind him to move on.

A burst of gunfire exploded somewhere further inside. Garrus's stomach tightened into a hard knot, and he picked up the pace as he hurried down the corridor that stretched on before them.

He rounded the corner with nervous anticipation, weary eyes glued to the scope of his rifle, and froze when he found himself staring into the barrel of a familiar gun.

A relieved huff of air escaped his lungs and he lowered his weapon, his shoulders relaxing from the unnatural tenseness he hadn't realized he'd let creep into his muscles.

"Shepard."

His eyes flicked over her face, surreptitiously examining the bruises blooming over her pale skin and the bright red blood seeping out of a cut on her swollen brow. Her earpiece was missing, and there were a few new scrapes and scorch marks on her armor, but otherwise she seemed to be all right.

"The krogan?" he asked.

The corner of Shepard's lips quirked into a lopsided smirk. "Dead." She lowered her weapon, and loosened up her posture into an easy stance. "The area's clear," she said, jerking her head at the hallway in the back.

Garrus's gaze drifted over to the path of destruction behind her: dead bodies, dropped guns, and destroyed crates littered the floor all the way to the next intersection. An utterly unreasonable, unexplainable wave of pride rushed through his veins, and he looked back into her eyes with an impressed grin. "Nice work. And the shuttle hatch?"

"Still disabled."

Captain Kirrahe bobbed his head in approval. "Excellent. Let's move out then."

 

* * *

They retraced their steps to the entry way, then continued on towards the back rooms. There was no resistance, and everything was quiet until they reached the labs and the heavy silence shattered with the sound of angry shouts and desperate gunfire.

They jogged down the corridor towards the source of the noise and were about to creep through a door when a bulky figure staggered out of the room, ablaze in flames, screaming and threshing in agony before he collapsed onto the floor and stopped moving.

"Thought I was harmless, didn't you?" Mordin's self-satisfied voice came from the inside.

They burst through the door in time to witness the salarian gunning down two more guards before the smoke cleared and everything went quiet again.

"Professor," Shepard said as she looked around the room, littered with broken equipment and dead bodies now, "you all right?"

Mordin's large eyes drifted over to her in slight confusion. "Of course. Why wouldn't be?"

Shepard bit into her lower lip to stifle a chuckle. Yeah. Why wouldn't he be? It was a silly question, considering he'd just done away with a whole group of guards, including one bulky and, no doubt, very dangerous krogan, all by himself.

"Any news from the Spectre?" she asked.

"Made it to rendezvous point. However, heard gunfight through comm."

Garrus pointed his rifle at the door leading to the next area of the compound. "Let's go, then."

The path to the back rooms was strewn with a similar measure of devastation. Blood, burn marks, lifeless bodies, and broken furniture covered nearly every section they went through. Apparently, Bau and Wrex had been as busy as the rest of them.

The rendezvous point, however, was empty.

"He ran," Garrus growled out as he surveyed Dr. Saleon's abandoned bedroom.

"He couldn't get far," Shepard said. "The shuttle bay's hatch is disabled, remember?"

Garrus was out the door even before she finished her sentence. "Yes. I'm sure he's already there."

And he was—along with Bau, Wrex, the last few guards still standing, and an unknown, disheveled human female blocking any access to the sniveling doctor behind her, her arms outstretched and her tear strained voice pleading for mercy.

"Don't shoot!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to KabiViolet for the beta, and Happy Holidays to all! :)


	13. Standoff

Of all the ways they had _not_ anticipated this mission going, _this_ had to be right at the top of the list.

Catching Dr. Saleon in the shuttle bay, ready to flee once again, was no surprise, of course. Having a civilian shielding him with her own body, however, hadn't really been something they had prepared any contingency plans for.

Shepard crouched down behind the remains of what used to be a thick, metal door that led to the large chamber housing the facility's escape vehicles, and peered through the jagged, gaping hole that had been blown open by some kind of a powerful explosion. Inside, a cloud of grey smoke and dust still swirled lazily in the air, enveloping the now motionless participants of the preceding battle and its aftermath. A quick survey of the space revealed that Bau and Wrex were positioned close by, their guns aimed firmly at Dr. Saleon and his bodyguards, while the latter stood, their own weapons leveled at the intruders, at the far end of the room.

The scene wasn't really anything unexpected during a raid like this; what _was_ rather astonishing, however, was the human female with short, auburn hair, and green, frantic eyes, who had foolishly inserted herself between the two groups. A number of lifeless bodies lay no more than a few feet from where she stood, and Shepard couldn't help but wonder whether it had even crossed this strange person's mind just how close she was to joining their ranks on the floor.

Amazingly, though, the woman's unexpected intrusion did have the result she must have been hoping for: apparently, the fighting had stopped and turned into a standstill as the two sides stood frozen in place now, glaring at one another but neither of them willing to make the first move.

"Who the hell is that?" Garrus hissed through clenched teeth as he sank down on one knee at the large gap in the door and scanned the far side of the hangar through his rifle's scope.

Mordin took a quick peek over the commander's shoulder, then pressed himself back against the wall behind her. "Saleon's assistant?" he murmured, scratching the skin under his left eye with his free hand. "No, no, clothing too old and worn. Unless doctor doesn't pay very well. Keeps profits for himself. Hmm. Maybe one of the employees, then. From slums on Omega, perhaps."

"Didn't you lock down their sleeping quarters?" Captain Kirrahe whispered harshly, managing to sound authoritative and snappy even when forced to lower his voice to a barely audible range.

"Not incompetent," Mordin whispered back. His nostrils flared indignantly as he inhaled a deep lungful of air. "Must have been outside already when I encrypted the door."

Shepard held up an annoyed hand. "Shh! They're talking."

The salarians fell silent, and they all listened as Bau admonished the woman for her foolish interference with Spectre business and Wrex made grumbling threats about his shotgun's ammo being able to rip through a soft, squishy human's flesh and still come out on the other side to reach its ultimate target.

All they got for their efforts was a firm, _"I won't let you do this,"_ and a scowl.

"This is going nowhere," Garrus groaned. His blue eyes burned with a cold fury of frustration as he flicked his gaze over to Shepard. "Maybe we should just drag her out of the way."

The commander shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Not with all those guns in the room just waiting to go off at the slightest provocation." She heaved out a heavy sigh and rolled her shoulders to loosen up her taut muscles. "Well, I have some experience with talking down mentally unstable people from doing something stupid. Had to do that once with a fellow soldier when… Ugh, never mind. I'll tell you later. I'll see if I can talk some sense into the thick skull of this one."

She straightened up with another sigh and jerked her head at Mordin as she stepped through the shattered remnants of the door. "Professor, you're with me," she said, keeping her voice low. "Garrus, Captain—you should stay here for now. No need to lay out all our cards at this time."

Mordin gave her a quick nod and followed her as she slowly, carefully, made her way into the room. The guards' weapons swung anxiously in their direction, abandoning their old marks for a moment, before they snapped back to Bau and Wrex —then over to the two of them again. The air crackled with barely contained tension, but thankfully, no one was firing just yet.

As for the doctor's protector, she stood firmly glued to the floor, despite the obvious trembling of her arms and legs, as she watched the newcomers emerge from the shadows. Her red-rimmed eyes shone with unshed tears and flitted anxiously from face to face until they settled on the only other human in the room.

"Please," she rasped out, "don't let them do this. I need this job. I can't… I can't lose it."

Shepard's brows tightened into a sullen frown. Her _job_? _That_ was what all this was about?

"Who are you? Are you Dr. Saleon's assistant?" she demanded. It came out harsher than she'd intended, but then again, if this woman was actually helping that bastard with his sick business, maybe she did deserve that bullet Wrex had threatened to send her way.

"His assistant? N-no," the woman stammered. "I'm just a… uh, an employee."

Mordin nodded triumphantly and allowed his lips to quirk up into a satisfied smile. His assessment had been correct. As usual.

Shepard wasn't nearly as thrilled with the answer. All right, so this woman was not a participant in Saleon's business—well, at least not in the diabolical, unconscionable way the salarian was—but then, what the hell was she doing here?

"Then why are you here?" she snapped out the question scratching at the back of her brain. "What exactly made you think it was a good idea to jump into the line of fire? You could have gotten hurt, or worse."

"She still can if she doesn't get out of my way." Wrex's deep voice rolled across the room like distant thunder.

The woman blanched as her eyes darted over to the pissed-off krogan for a moment, but, to her credit, she stood her ground. "I told you. I need this job. This is the only thing I have, and you don't have the right to—"

"I'm a Spectre," Bau threw in, raising his voice to cut the human's tirade short. "I have every right to stop this criminal activity."

"But we are doing something good!" she cried out. "We're not criminals. We're helping people!"

"That's right!" Saleon finally spoke up, peeking over his protector's shoulder. "We provide a much needed medical service to—" Whatever else he was going to say, it froze in his throat and he ducked back down when Wrex pointed his gun at his head with a teeth-baring snarl.

"Look," Shepard started, turning the attention back to the woman in front of her. "Uh, what's your name?"

"Amanda. Amanda Whitman."

"All right, Amanda. I'm Commander Shepard from the Alliance and, as you've already heard, that man over there is a Spectre." She nudged her head in the general direction of Bau, but didn't take her eyes off of Amanda and the guards. "You're not in any trouble. All we want is to talk to the doctor. Just step away from him, and I promise you won't get hurt."

Amanda's arms dropped down to her side, and her hands curled into tight fists as she took half a step forward. "No! You don't understand! Nobody has ever done anything for me. Ever! I have a dead husband, a sick mother, and three small children back on Omega who need to be fed and clothed. Who will provide for them if I lose this job? The only person who was willing to give me employment when I needed it was Dr. Heart —nobody else! And now that I can finally make some money to help my family, here you come with your speeches and your guns and all that death in your wake, and you tell me we're doing something criminal? Well, guess what? I don't give a damn!" She wiped away the bitter tears that flowed freely now and continued, her voice cracking on the last few words. "All I want is food on the table and a future for my children. Please, don't take it away from them."

Shepard's mouth pressed into a thin, tight line. It had been so easy to discount Dr. Saleon's workers as faceless numbers, or, at the most, victims without a mind of their own; she'd never really considered the impact destroying the salarian's enterprise would have on these people's lives. What would become of them once they were done here? Where would they go? It must have been sheer desperation that drove them into Saleon's clutches—what options would they have if even this "job", as miserable and potentially fatal as it was, was taken away from them?

Still, anything had to be better than being used like a living, breathing incubator and, when your cells began to shut down after all that abuse, being discarded as though you were no more than a soiled Petri dish that wasn't worth saving anymore.

"And who will feed your children when your body can no longer take the constant operations, or a malformed organ withers and festers inside you until you die?" she barked out, and hoped to high hell that a reality check would finally knock some sense into this desperate woman's one-track mind.

Amanda's eyes snapped up from the floor to meet the commander's hard gaze. "What? That… is not going to happen."

"Oh, yes," Mordin chimed in, nodding his head enthusiastically. "Infection, sepsis, necrosis, death very possible outcome when non-viable tissue left behind."

Amanda turned her head and shot a quick glance at Dr. Saleon behind her. "He wouldn't do that."

"He would, and he has," Bau said. "Repeatedly. Citadel Security has an extensive case file about the victims of his experiments. Who knows how many people died while in his care on Omega and how many more were going to die here, on Noveria."

Shepard watched as the woman's face paled and her lips quivered at the Spectre's words. Maybe it was time for another push, from another angle. "We can help you," she said. "We'll find a job for you somewhere. Somewhere safe. Something that will provide for your family without sacrificing your life."

"Could always use a helper at the clinic," Mordin suggested.

Shepard had an overwhelming urge to throw her arms around the crazy salarian with the crooked grin and the broken horn and squeeze him in a tight hug, but she settled on a warm smile for now. "So, how about it?"

It took a long moment before Amanda's posture finally relaxed, and for the first time since they'd entered this room, her anguished frown disappeared from her brows. "All right. Thank you. I—"

The next sound out of her throat was a startled squeal when Saleon straightened up and, surprisingly fast, yanked her back towards him. He wrapped an arm around her throat to put her in a chokehold, and shoved a pistol's barrel into her temple.

"Well, this has been _so_ very touching," he said, cold sarcasm dripping from his voice like venom from the bared fangs of an agitated snake. "Wish I could hear more, but it's time for us to go. If you want her to live—and, luckily enough for me, you seem to really, really want her to live—you'll put down your weapons and back away slowly. Now. Before I blow her brains out."

Shepard's fingers tightened around her gun. Well, wasn't this just fucking great. She wished she could punch something right now—preferably Saleon's smug face smirking at her from behind Amanda's shoulder.

As far as she was concerned, giving up their weapons was out of the question. The rest of the team seemed to share her sentiment; she didn't dare take her eyes off of the salarian, but the silence in the room confirmed that, just like her, not one of them had made a move to disarm themselves. Her brain worked furiously over the next steps, comparing tactics, possibilities, and different outcomes depending on the solution they might be forced to take.

She was about to say something to stall for time when Garrus's deep, flanging voice rumbled reassuringly in her ear.

"Shepard. You're in my shot. Move a step to the right."

She almost couldn't stop herself from grinning. Oh, yeah. Garrus's plan would work, too. She could almost see him, curled over his sniper rifle, eyes glued to the scope, his predatory gaze focused on his prey with deadly precision. She had to admit that the image excited her. It set an unexpectedly warm feeling loose in her belly that spread to her chest and heated up her cheeks, and she had to take a long, deep breath and exhale it slowly to chase it away and concentrate her thoughts on the here and now.

It felt like an eternity, but it only lasted a moment as she took stock of the situation. Garrus was a damned good shot, she'd seen that enough on the missions they'd been on, but still, firing at a target that happened to be holding a gun to his hostage's temple was a risky move even for the best sharpshooters out there, and she wasn't sure she was ready to sign off on such a plan without a little bit of fine-tuning.

She lowered her weapon and pretended to open up her omni-tool, hoping that it would distract Saleon enough to drop his guard. "Killing her would do you no good. But if you let her go, I'll restore the shuttle controls so you can fly out of here."

The doctor pulled his pistol away from Amanda's head and waved it at the commander. "Don't try anything—"

That was the last thing he ever got to say. Shepard stepped to the side, and half a second later, a loud crack rang out from the direction of the door, and Saleon crumpled to the ground with utter shock on his face and a neat hole between his eyes.

The next moment, it was all chaos.

Amanda screamed, the guards started shooting, which Bau and his team reciprocated with an efficient burst of fire of their own, and Shepard launched herself at the shell-shocked woman to tackle her to the floor. Before they even landed on Saleon's still-warm corpse, the commander made a half turn in the air and pulled the trigger of her gun, bringing down the nearby batarian that was about to blast a hole right through her head.

The batarian fell down with a thump. His colleagues followed soon after, and the fight was over before it ever really began.

Once the thunderous rattle of weapons fire died down and the floor stopped shaking underneath their feet, Shepard disentangled herself from Amanda's trembling body and stood up to her full height.

"You okay?" she asked, extending a hand.

Slowly, reluctantly, Amanda took the offered help and stood up. "Yes. No. I don't know." She ran her fingers through her hair and blinked down at the doctor's lifeless remains sprawled out in a pool of green blood on the floor. "I really thought I was part of something good. I thought he tried to help people. Getting paid for my efforts was a wonderful bonus." Her gaze slid back up to Shepard and her lips pulled into a small, teary smile. "What an idiot I was."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Garrus's warm, flanging voice filled the air as he strolled over, his stride as graceful and confident as ever. "You're not the only one who fell for his scheme. At least you came out of it alive."

Shepard looked up into Garrus's proud, blue eyes and gave him an impressed grin. "Nice shot."

He met her gaze and held it for a long moment, sending a jolt of electricity through her veins, before his mandibles flared out into a satisfied grin of his own. "Thanks."

Bau strode over to their group to survey the results of the short battle and dipped his head in a nod of approval. "Good job, both of you." He turned around and headed for the door, ignoring Wrex's prodding of Saleon's corpse with the toe of his booted foot to make sure the bastard was truly, properly dead. "Come on, let's get back to the employee quarters and check on the rest of his people."

 

* * *

Shepard didn't have to be an expert on turian body language to know that Lorik Qui'in was not amused. In fact, if anybody had asked her, she would have said the administrator looked thoroughly pissed.

"Blood stains, bullet holes and scorches on nearly every surface, equipment damaged in the control room, door to the shuttle bay _utterly_ _destroyed_..." He raised his voice _and_ his brow plates at this last part and shook his head incredulously as he scrolled through the maintenance report on his desk. "Do you have any idea how much all this cleanup and repair is going to cost?"

"A pretty penny, I'm guessing," Shepard offered helpfully.

Lorik Qui'in didn't seem to be impressed. He lifted his severe, dark eyes from his computer console to glower at the human sitting across from him, and ran an exasperated hand over his crest. "And now you want me to spend even more credits on the health care of Dr. Heart's—uh, I mean, Dr. Saleon's, surviving workers." He exhaled a deep sigh. "And who exactly is going to pay for all that?"

Shepard leaned forward in her chair and slid a datapad across the table. "Actually, a review of Dr. Saleon's finances has revealed that he paid the Port a handsome amount as a security deposit when he rented the facility. Enough to cover any necessary repairs, should things go horribly, horribly, wrong with his enterprise, which, as I understand, is not that unusual an occurrence when it comes to company operations on Noveria."

Her eyes crinkled and her lips curled up into a cheeky smile, but Lorik said nothing.

She sank back into her chair, crossed her legs, and continued. "The Council has officially confiscated the doctor's funds, and any and all costs in connection with his activities—be it outstanding fees for the damage caused to the compound or the medical care of the people his criminal operation has hurt—will be paid for from those accounts."

"Bastard has made enough credits from the hides of his workers to pay for the hospitalization of an entire army," Garrus murmured through clenched teeth.

"Indeed," Mordin added, steepling his fingers together like an evil genius scheming about world domination. "Most patients can be treated in Port Hanshan hospital at reasonable cost. Hopefully doctors are competent enough to handle necessary care." Lorik Qui'in glared at the salarian, and was about to shoot him a scathing reply when the professor continued. "Worst cases will be taken to Huerta Memorial on Citadel. Excellent care there. Spectre has chartered ship for transfer already."

The administrator took a moment to inhale a long breath, and let out a resigned sigh. "All right. But what happens when the people you're leaving behind have recovered? Where will they live? What will they do? Loiterers and criminals are not tolerated here, and I doubt the Board of Directors would be willing to commit any resources to their relocation."

Shepard folded her arms in front of her chest and quirked a corner of her mouth into a lopsided smirk. "No offense, Administrator, but I doubt a lot of them would actually want to stay here—as beautiful as Noveria is."

"I know _I_ wouldn't," Garrus muttered under his breath.

Shepard feigned a cough to hide her laugh—she doubted Lorik Qui'in would have appreciated her mirth. She cleared her throat, then went on. "The fund the Council has established from Dr. Saleon's confiscated accounts can pay for the travel expenses of those who'll want to leave. On the other hand, a few of them might, in fact, choose to stay instead. And that's where _you_ come in, Administrator."

Lorik dropped his hands onto the smooth surface of his expensive, exquisitely carved wooden desk, and wove his fingers together. "I do?"

"Yes. You are absolutely correct that those that stay will need some kind of a solution. Jobs, food, a place to live." She leaned forward, eyes intent and focused, and hoped that all that research she'd slogged through this morning was about to pay off. "An important place like Port Hanshan always needs some good, reliable workers," she said. "Janitorial, maintenance, security, whatever. Especially when there's a high turnover of employees due to the—let's face it—less than ideal weather conditions and lack of things to do." She thought she saw a flicker of understanding light up the administrator's eyes, and, bolstered by his reaction, she pushed on. "These people have been through a lot. If you were to offer them a home, with a secure job and decent pay, I'm willing to bet that, in return, they'd become the most grateful, loyal, and reliable workers you've ever had. What's more, such a gesture would not only boost Noveria's image, but it might also gain you a few good points with the Board for handling this difficult situation so spectacularly, with such a positive outcome for the Port. And, as I understand, a few good points with the Board wouldn't hurt."

She could virtually see the gears churning in Lorik's head while he stared at her for a long moment, considering her suggestion. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost the irritated edge it had been laced with just a few minutes ago. "That's an interesting idea, Commander. I'll have to give it some thought."

"That's all I'm asking," she said. She stood up and gave him a friendly nod. "Thank you, Administrator. We appreciate all your help."

She gestured for her team to follow and headed to the door, but stopped when Lorik rose from his chair and walked around his desk to take her hand and lift it to his stiff lips. "It's been a pleasure, my dear. If you ever get tired of your Alliance, come and see me. I could use a hard little cake like you on my staff."

Shepard stared at him for a second, wondering what on earth he'd just said, and strangely, only realized the meaning behind his words when Garrus murmured, "You're a what?"

"I think he meant a tough little cookie," she murmured back. She wasn't sure she liked to be called that, but she gave the administrator a smile anyway. "I'll think about it."

On her way out, she caught Mordin's eyes flick between her, Qui'in, and Vakarian. When the salarian opened his mouth to say something, no doubt about the mating instincts of humans and turians or some such fascinating topic, she quickly held up a hand.

"Not a word."

She marched through the door with a scowl, but allowed herself an amused smirk when she heard Garrus growl behind her.

"What _she_ said."

 

* * *

The trip back was rather uneventful.

They dropped Captain Kirrahe and the _Deh'Lan_ off on Sur'Kesh and said good-bye to Mordin and Amanda on Omega. Wrex disembarked there as well.

Shepard gave the krogan a big hug before he left the crew quarters and walked off the ship, and the old battlemaster stopped on his way out to clap Garrus on the shoulder.

"Watch her back, turian," he grumbled, shifting his eyes to Shepard standing some distance away in the room. "Don't let her run into battle like a reckless pyjak."

"Ha!" Shepard yelled as she dropped down on one of the bunk beds—the one straight across from Garrus's, this time. "Says the guy who charged a battalion of slavers on Elysium without any backup."

Wrex let out a rumbling laugh. "Cleaned a path for you though, didn't I?" Shepard shook her head with a snort, and when she looked away, Wrex leaned closer to Garrus's ear canal and lowered his voice. "Take care of her, Vakarian. And if I ever find out that you broke her heart, I'll hunt you down, skin you alive, and use your scaly hide as target practice. Understood?"

Garrus nodded. "Duly noted."

Wrex's lips stretched into a wide grin, and he strolled through the door without another word.

"What was that about?" Shepard asked.

Garrus shrugged his shoulders and walked over to his bed. "Nothing. He begged me to write to him. You know how clingy he can be."

Shepard laughed. "Right. Well, I'm going to miss him."

"I won't. But I'm not the one who's in love with him," Garrus deadpanned, and leaned deftly out of the way when Shepard threw her pillow at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and the comments - I really appreciate the support! I'm sorry this chapter is so late. I had some RL and family issues, plus an enormous writer's block that took me quite a while to get around. I'm still not 100% happy with the chapter, but I figured if I want to get to the fun parts I've been planning for future chapters, I'd better stop messing with this one and move on. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.


	14. Tracking Targets

The ship felt almost empty now, with just the three of them on board. Not that Shepard really minded; when it came down to it, she could definitely do without the thundering racket of Wrex's snoring at night, or the frequent bickering between Captain Kirrahe and Mordin Solus during the day, no matter how amusing the high-paced back and forth between the two salarians (sometimes three, on the rare occasions Jondum Bau had decided to chime in as well) might have been.

If there was one thing she truly missed, though, it was Amanda's magic touch in the kitchen. She had absolutely no idea how that woman had been able to wrangle such satisfying meals out of the plain rations and simple ingredients they kept in the cooling unit and the food storage, but everything Amanda had put together had always tasted fantastic—unlike the bland, freeze-dried packet of meatloaf, peas, and mashed potatoes Shepard had warmed up for herself this evening.

She shoveled in another spoonful of the dreadful meal and, to distract herself from the less than stellar taste, she opened up her omni-tool to check her messages. She was in luck: there was one from Ashley, a small ping indicating that it had just been received via a nearby comm buoy.

She tapped on it eagerly, and smiled as she read the note. It was short and to the point, just as most of Ash's communications had been.

_Hey. How's Spectre business?_

Shepard pulled up the keyboard interface and typed a quick answer, then choked down the rest of her dinner and chased it down with a long gulp of water.

_Fine. Cleaning up the scum of the galaxy. How's everyone?_

She sent the text, then stood up from the table and tossed the aluminum tray, still smeared with the remnants of the potatoes, into the recycling system. It was too late for coffee now, so she helped herself to Bau's stash of decaffeinated herbal teas and chose a packet with a jolly salarian holding up some kind of an exotic orange fruit on the packaging. She was _fairly_ certain the Spectre wouldn't mind—he _had_ offered her a cup here and there, after all, during the last few weeks. Besides, if he didn't want to share, he shouldn't have left it out on the counter in the first place.

Conscience sufficiently allayed, Shepard prepared the tea and poured herself a mug, and took a deep inhale of the rich, citrusy scent before she walked back to the table. By the time she sat down and took a sip of the steaming brew, Ashley's reply had already come in.

_Nice. I mean the taking out the trash part._

_Crew's fine. Joker says he's thrilled not having you breathing down his neck in the cockpit for a change. Jenkins thinks he'll finally have the chance to win at poker one of these nights, now that you're gone. It hasn't happened yet, but he keeps hoping. Dr. Chakwas is bored out of her mind in the medbay. She says that, with you off the ship, there's nobody to patch up after a firefight. Kaidan seems to have less frequent migraines nowadays, what with you not being here to charge into battle and force him to overuse his biotics in order to save your ass._

Shepard shook her head and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Her friends were all a veritable bunch of comedians—and not very good ones at that. Still, she snorted out a chuckle, and kept on reading.

_So, yeah, we all miss you._

_How's the teammate?_

With his customary impeccable timing, Garrus chose to stroll in at that very moment. He flashed his sharp teeth at her in a friendly smile, and padded over to the fridge to find something to eat. She followed him with her gaze, and watched as he bent down and rummaged inside one of the drawers, muttering something under his breath about the paltry selection of dextro dishes that didn't actually make him want to throw up.

Shepard almost laughed out loud. Well, if anything, her teammate was certainly fun to be around. If she had to summarize her other observations about him as well, she'd have had to say that he was intelligent, witty, interesting, he knew how to make her laugh, and... he had the most gorgeous blue eyes she'd ever seen.

Right now, however, he seemed to be done raiding the refrigerator, so, before he could catch her staring at him and his backside, she returned her attention to her omni-tool and tapped out a reply to Ash.

_He's all right._

Ash's retort came almost immediately, and Shepard couldn't help but wonder whether the _Normandy_ was really that close or if they'd just gotten lucky with the buoys.

_Really? What happened to 'I'm gonna kill him?'_

Even though her friend wasn't there to see it, Shepard's shoulders lifted and dropped in a shrug.

_Well, turns out he has his uses. He's capable, he's an excellent shot, and he's pretty good to have at your back._

She fired off the message, and quirked her lips into a wistful smirk as she remembered how very, _very_ good it really had been to have him at her back—literally—in that cold lab on Noveria, and how very, _very_ capable he had been with his hands when he'd slid his fingers down her front and gently cupped her breasts and...

Her cheeks heated up and her throat went dry at those memories, and she lifted the mug to her lips to quench her sudden thirst. She took a few careful sips of the hot liquid, and by the time she looked up from behind the curling steam, Garrus was already pulling out the chair opposite hers and sitting down at the table with a tray of some strange looking meal.

Whether on purpose or not, he bumped her foot with his, and when she flicked her eyes at him, he gave her one of those cheeky grins that used to drive her up the wall. Now, it set a chain reaction of fireworks and electricity loose in her belly that spread out to her chest and beyond, right down to the very ends of her fingertips.

Her messaging program chimed softly to alert her to Ash's reply and, reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from those pretty blue eyes to read what the gunnery chief had to say about her unexpected praise of the turian.

_Glad to hear it. Just don't—oh, shit, I've gotta go. Talk to you later._

Shepard sent a short message of acknowledgement, and turned off her omni-tool with a rueful smile. As interesting as this Spectre training business had been, sometimes she really missed the _Normandy_ and her crew.

Her silent reverie was interrupted by Garrus's throat clearing. "Good news?" he asked when she glanced back up at him.

She shook her head. "No, just talking to a friend."

The strange spear-shaped fork stilled in Garrus's hand, and he gave her a searching look.

"Uh, boyfriend?"

He tried to sound nonchalant, she could tell, but there was a strained timbre in his voice that she was pretty sure hadn't been there before.

Her eyebrows shot up on her forehead as she pondered the meaning behind his question. Was he getting at what she _hoped_ he was getting at? Nah, it was better not to get too excited about his inquiry. He was probably just being nosy. Not like he'd made any moves since that memorable night on Noveria, or even brought up the subject of their little escapade in that cold lab. Though, to be honest, neither had she. Granted, other than a few shy smiles and sideways glances, they hadn't exactly had a lot of chances for private conversations until now, what with the mission immediately after the lockdown and all those people coming on board after that.

Garrus cleared his throat again, and she realized that she'd made him wait a bit too long. She gave him an apologetic smile. "No, just a friend."

He nodded in understanding, but, apparently, he wasn't quite done with his questioning yet. He dropped his gaze down to his plate and poked at his food absentmindedly. "Do you have one?"

"One, what? A friend?"

"No. Boyfriend."

Shepard's heart just about exploded. My, my. So he _was_ interested. Was it insane how happy that made her? Probably. Right now, however, she didn't care. With anybody else, she would have told them to mind their own business; with him, she couldn't tell him fast enough how single and how very _available_ she really was.

"Not at the moment," she said. "Fraternization is not allowed in the military, and it's hard to develop a relationship with a civilian when you're gone all the time." She dropped her gaze onto the shimmering, still-steaming surface of her tea, and idly traced the rim of the mug with her index finger. "How about you? You have a girlfriend?"

A month ago, she wouldn't have given a rat's ass if he'd had an entire harem pining for him at home. Now, she had to remind herself to breathe as she waited for his reply.

Garrus's mandibles spread out in a relieved smile. "No, no girlfriend. Too busy solving crimes and kicking ass on the Citadel."

The nervous knot in Shepard's stomach dissolved and turned into a warm, comforting buzz, and she glanced back up at him with a bright smile of her own. "That's… good. I mean…"

His hand slowly began to inch across the tabletop to touch hers. "Yeah. I know. So, I was thinking—"

If Garrus had the best timing, Bau had the worst. The door to his cabin slid open, and he burst into the mess with the widest grin Shepard had ever seen on his face.

"Ah, you're both here. Excellent. I have good news."

Garrus withdrew his hand and leaned back in his chair with an air of forced aloofness. Shepard mirrored his pose and carefully kept her eyes on the Spectre as he took a seat and opened up his omni-tool.

"I might have mentioned earlier that I've been on the trail of a highly skilled, elusive criminal called Kasumi Goto," he said. He tapped a few icons before he continued. "Here, I've forwarded some of my case files to you. Study them; familiarize yourselves with her tactics and capabilities. For now, however, it's enough to say that she is a master thief, tech expert, and infiltrator, who has stolen a large number of extremely valuable items all over the galaxy. I've been trying to catch her for years, but she's always managed to stay one step ahead of me. By the time I arrive at the scene of her newest crime, she's always gone, with every trace of her erased. It's been extremely hard to follow her trail. Until now."

Bau beamed at his protégés triumphantly and waited for a few seconds for dramatic effect before he went on. "I've just received a call from one of my contacts on Illium. Miss Goto's partner, a drell assassin by the name of Thane Krios, has been spotted in Nos Astra. If he's there, it's extremely likely that Miss Goto is as well. Even if he's alone—which I doubt, since they've been working together for quite some time now—with some careful investigation, tracking, and a little bit of luck, he might lead us to her. This is the closest I've been to catching her. So, as you might have already guessed, our next destination is Nos Astra."

 

* * *

They spent the rest of the evening studying Bau's case files and discussing possible tactics they could use to track the Spectre's slippery target down. By the time Shepard and Garrus had retreated to the crew quarters and fell into bed, their brains too numb from hours of planning and strategizing to do anything else but sleep, they had all but forgotten about their earlier conversation in the mess.

That is, until Shepard's head hit her pillow.

She closed her eyes and tried to push Kasumi Goto and the upcoming mission's details out of her mind, but as soon as those thoughts had mercifully stopped lighting up the neurons in her brain like a string of Christmas lights, the words Garrus had uttered earlier in the mess took their place and began to roll around in her head. Telling herself to stop thinking about him was no use; no matter how hard she tried, she could _not_ stop wondering what he had been about to say just before Bau had stormed out of his room.

It was pure torture, not being able to ask him about it now. She listened to his steady breathing, wishing he were still awake, and when he made a small noise that _could_ have been a suppressed sigh, she decided to take that as an indication that maybe he was.

"Garrus?" she whispered. "You awake?"

There was a short pause before he answered.

"No."

She chuckled and propped her head up on the palm of her hand, and peered over at his form lying in the bunk across from hers. His head turned in her direction, and she could have sworn that she saw his eyes light up in the darkness. _Like a cat,_ she thought. _A graceful, lethal, predatory big cat. Or a dinosaur._ _Did dinosaurs have glowing eyes?_

Garrus yawned. "Do you need something?" he asked, shaking Shepard out of her musings about her roommate's alien and so very non-human-like features. All right, so maybe she _was_ insane for being interested in someone outside her own species. It didn't matter. She still didn't care.

His voice was thick with drowsiness, and, for a moment, she almost regretted having woken him up. But, as long as he was conscious now…

"Earlier, in the mess," she started, "you were about to say something just before Bau came out of his room. What was it?"

He was silent for a few seconds, and she started to wonder if he'd gone back to sleep or just didn't want to answer, but after a gentle cough, he finally began to speak. "I was, uh, going to suggest that maybe next time we're on the Citadel and we have some shore leave, we could, you know, go out and have a drink together. Or dinner. Or something. I know a nice restaurant that serves both dextro and levo dishes."

Shepard's heart jumped into her throat and her lips stretched into a face-splitting smirk. "Well, well, Officer Vakarian, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Would that be all right?"

She was enormously grateful for the darkness in the room, for she couldn't stop grinning like a lunatic now. "Yeah. Sure. I think that would be, uh, fun."

"Good."

He mumbled something else that was too low for her translator to catch, and the room fell silent again after that.

Shepard dropped her head back down on her pillow and closed her eyes, and this time, she had no trouble falling asleep.

 

* * *

Nos Astra seemed like a pretty nice place—until you found out about the shady contracts, indentured servitude, and well-hidden lawlessness behind the shiny façade of its elegant buildings.

The one good thing about the city, however, was its extensive surveillance system and countless security cameras that recorded nearly everything that went on in its public spaces. It did nothing to prevent the illegal activities that happened behind closed doors, of course, but it did help the planet's tourists and residents feel safe—and, as it turned out, it proved to be an invaluable tool for finding a few important clues about Kasumi Goto's and Thane Krios's whereabouts.

"Always try to keep a good working relationship with the local law enforcement," Bau advised his protégés as the rental shuttle came to a stop next to the spaceport's police station. "You never know when you might need their help."

He climbed out of the vehicle and waited patiently for Garrus and Shepard to clamber out after him. "I've known this detective for several years," he carried on as he headed for the door. "We worked together on a case, and she promised me then that if Miss Goto or her partner ever showed up on Illium, she'd let me know. And now, we're going to reap the fruits of that friendly relationship." He glanced over his shoulder with a proud smile, then strolled into the building with a confident spring in his step.

"Where's Detective Anaya?" he asked the first person he came across just inside the door.

The asari nudged her head in the direction of the far corner. "She's over there, with the _justicar_." Her voice held a strange mixture of awe and terror, and it positively seemed like she shivered at that last word.

"Thank you," Bau said, slowing his stride as he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the duo in the indicated area.

"What's a justicar?" Shepard asked. She took a curious peak at the two asari sitting behind a low wall on the other side of the room. The one seated at the desk wore a drab, conservatively cut uniform; the other, perching in an alcove, was dressed in a colorful, skin-tight leotard with a plunging neckline that did almost nothing to contain her ample breasts.

"They are members of an ancient monastic order that swear an oath to discard their possessions and dedicate their lives to pursuing justice and punishing wrongdoers by any means necessary. They have absolute power in asari society; it's quite a fascinating part of their culture."

Shepard scratched the back of her neck. "Are they always dressed like… that?"

Garrus snorted in amusement, but Bau merely opened his arms in a clueless shrug. "I don't know. I've never seen one before."

As they approached the pair, the policewoman glanced up from the datapad she'd been studying and waved them over. "Ah, Spectre Bau. I'm glad you got here today. Tomorrow might have been too late."

The salarian gave her a questioning look. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing yet. But I might not be here tomorrow."

Bau sat down and tilted his head in confusion. "Oh? Are you going on vacation?"

The asari's lips pursed in a cheerless smirk. "I wish. No, I'll probably be dead."

For a long moment, a shocked silence settled on the group. Even Bau seemed to be too taken aback to say something.

It was the justicar's cool, emotionless voice that finally cut through the collective fog in their brains. "What Detective Anaya is trying to say," she said, turning her pale blue eyes in their direction, "is that if I am not released within twenty hours, I will be forced to kill her."

If they'd been confused before, they were absolutely flabbergasted now.

"Say what, now?" Garrus blurted out. His hand drifted unconsciously towards his back to slide his fingers along the barrel of his gun, but when Bau gave him a firm headshake, he forced his arms to drop down at his sides. Nevertheless, his talons tightened into tense fists. Threatening a police officer wasn't exactly high on his list of tolerable behavior, no matter the social or cultural status of the individual in question.

Bau narrowed his eyes as he took in the justicar's casual pose and unreadable expression. She didn't seem to be concerned about murdering an innocent person in the slightest—who happened to be a person of the law, at that. Was that kind of a behavior why she'd been arrested? Had she gone rogue and committed a heinous act? But, if that was the case, why was she sitting here casually, instead of being locked up in a high security prison?

"Why are you in custody?" he asked. "Did you commit a crime?"

The detective leaned back in her chair and heaved out a deep sigh. "No, she hasn't. At least, not that I know of. But my superiors aren't willing to take the chance. Most of the time, when a justicar is on a case, they will do anything to pursue their goal, and if somebody gets in their way, they won't hesitate to use force. Which is fine in asari space, but not in an intergalactic community like Illium. So, I was ordered to take her in custody to prevent some kind of an embarrassing incident." Anaya rubbed her brow with a deep blue hand and shook her head, as though even _she_ couldn't quite believe the stupidity of her superiors. "Her justicar's code requires that she comply for twenty-four hours. Beyond that, she'll have to do something to get out. Which means killing me and anybody else who might stand in her way."

Garrus's jaw dropped. "Damn. And I thought C-Sec was bad. I don't think I'm ever going to complain about my bosses again."

Shepard folded her arms in front of her chest and leaned back on one hip as she stared at the asari, sitting in the alcove as indifferently as though they were talking about next day's weather. "What kind of justice is that? Killing innocent people and going on your merry way?"

Bau shot her a disapproving look, but the justicar didn't even blink at her outburst. "I can assure you," she said, in the same unemotional voice as the first time she'd spoken, "I do not take these matters lightly. Being able to continue with the pursuit of my target might cost a few lives, but if I am successful, it will save many, many more. Wouldn't you make that choice, too, if you had to?"

Shepard shook her head. "There must be another way."

"There is none."

"Is this criminal that dangerous?" Bau asked.

"She is. She's a ruthless predator who has killed countless people all over the galaxy already. She controls her victims with her mind, leaching every bit of life force out of them, and leaving lifeless shells behind. And each time she does this, she gets more and more powerful—it is absolutely imperative that I stop her. I tracked her down to Nos Astra, but as soon as I was getting close, she was smuggled off world somewhere. I need to find out where."

The Spectre lifted a slender finger and tapped his chin as he mulled over the information. This killer's modus operandi sounded suspiciously familiar. "Hmm. Does this happen a lot? There was a case like this on Omega recently. A human woman, last seen in the company of an asari, found dead, her entire nervous system and all brain functions destroyed."

The justicar's mask of cool collectedness disappeared in an instant. She sat up straight, back rigid, her earlier relaxed posture utterly gone. "No, it is very rare. It must be her. There's no other criminal like that on the loose right now. Do you have any other information about the case?"

Bau shook his head. "I don't, but there's someone else who might." He raised his arm and called up his omni-tool's interface. "If you give me your contact info, I'll send you the address of the person who handled the victim's autopsy. He can also direct you to the unfortunate girl's mother. She might be able to tell you more."

He waited as the asari opened up her omni-tool's messaging program and the two devices automatically synched. "Justicar… Samara," he said, reading the name off of her omni-tool's ID key, "I'll let Professor Mordin Solus know about your investigation. He'll be expecting you at his clinic. I'm sure he'll be happy to help."

Samara's lips drew into a barely noticeable smile. "Thank you. I greatly appreciate your help." She slid off her perch and turned to the detective, her impassive face taking on a regal expression once again. "Am I correct in surmising that, as long as I leave the planet, I am free to go?"

Detective Anaya gave her an enthusiastic nod. "Yes."

"Very well. I'll be leaving then. I am pleased that I did not have to kill you."

Anaya's shoulders seemed to relax a small amount, but her voice didn't change from her no-nonsense tone one bit. "Not nearly as pleased as I am."

Samara glanced down at her omni-tool, scanning for the Spectre's name in the data files he'd just sent her. "Spectre Jondum Bau. If you ever need my help, don't hesitate to call on me."

With that, she strolled out of the police station, head high and back ramrod straight, leaving a trail of jubilant sighs behind.

"Well," Anaya said, waving a hand at the chair on the other side of her desk, "that was definitely perfect timing, Spectre. I owe you one. Please, sit down."

Bau nodded his head at Garrus and Shepard before he took a seat. "Thank you. Now that that's done, let me introduce my companions. This is Officer Garrus Vakarian from Citadel Security and Commander Jane Shepard from the Alliance Navy. They are working with me at the moment." He leaned forward and laid his hands flat on the surface of the desk. "You said you had some information about my target?"

The detective turned her monitor around so that her visitors could see it, and pushed a few buttons to call up a series of video footage she had saved and put together for the Spectre. "Yes. After our last conversation, I put in a watch for any drells arriving in Nos Astra, and a few days ago, I got a ping back from Customs and Immigration about a drell by the name of Sorjon Lysal landing at the spaceport. He came on a passenger ship, and seemed to be traveling alone. However, when he checked into a hotel—the Lessaria, to be exact—he was with a female human. The ship's passenger manifest and surveillance video confirms that the female had arrived on the same ship as this "Sorjon Lysal."

They watched the clips of a drell with green skin and black scales and a slender human woman, her face obstructed by a cleverly chosen hood over her head, as they disembarked from the same charter plane, careful not to be seen together as they went through customs, then, later, walked down a hotel's corridor side by side, and disappeared into the same room.

Bau leaned forward, his eyes shining with unbridled enthusiasm. "Yes! That's them. That's Thane Krios and Kasumi Goto. Are they still planetside?"

Detective Anaya shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. Last night, they broke into the Dantius Towers, killed Nassana Dantius and most of her guards, then they took off in a chartered ship."

The Spectre's lips pressed together into a tight line and his eyes hardened in frustration, but the storm clouds that had gathered over his head dissipated as quickly as they'd come. He was more than used to these kinds of setbacks; this wasn't the first time he'd arrived just a bit too late, but he hoped it was the last. "Any information about where they've gone?"

"No. The trail went cold once they left Illium. But I can give you the name and ship ID of the vessel they rented."

Bau gave her a nod, and Anaya tapped on a few buttons to forward the information to his omni-tool's address. He stroked his chin and turned his attention back to the video screen. "Why did they attack their victim? Did they steal something valuable from her? Or was it a contract killing?"

"As far as we know, nothing went missing. As for your other question, we don't know yet. We're working on the case, but so far, there are no real leads. A lot of people wanted Nassana Dantius dead; she was not a popular person by any stretch of the imagination. But we haven't received any tips about a contract on her head."

Bau's fingers tapped out a discordant beat as he watched the rest of the surveillance footage. There were a few shots from the Dantius Towers themselves: the drell disappearing around corners and into vents; dropping down from the ceiling and snapping a guard's neck in the same fluid motion; raising his sniper rifle and sending a bullet into the skull of another guard while keeping the terrified workers around the merc alive. He couldn't help but admire the graceful way he moved and the swiftness with which he did away with his opponents; but the most interesting scenes, as far as he was concerned, were the few shots that actually showed his main target, the elusive Miss Goto, shimmer into view from her cloak to hack a door or disable a security device. This was a rare opportunity to observe her work, and he couldn't pass up the advantage it might give him to study her methods.

"Can you send me a copy of these files?" he asked, turning his attention back to the detective.

"Sure can. And if we find out anything more, I'll let you know."

Bau pushed his chair back with a satisfied nod and stood up. "Thank you. We'll be here for a while longer, so call me if you have something."

He signaled to Shepard and Vakarian to follow him, and they left the station, a little wiser about the situation, but as far as their targets went, still empty-handed.

"What are we going to do now?" Shepard asked as they walked back to the shuttle's landing zone.

"Find out as much as we can about what they did while they were here and where they went afterwards."

They climbed into the rental vehicle and he put in the destination before he continued. "But first, we're going to pay a visit to Nos Astra's best information broker."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and for following, reading, and bookmarking the story, and special thanks to those who've left comments. I really appreciate your continued support. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.


	15. Finding Clues

Bau tapped a few commands into the instrument panel, and the rental shuttle rose into the air with a graceful whirr. With the automated drive system that the vehicle, just like any other vessel of this kind, had been equipped with, it wasn't really necessary for him to keep his hands on the controls, but he did so anyway until they seamlessly merged into the steady traffic rushing towards the business district.

Once they were safely on their way, he released his grip and leaned back in his seat, but kept his eyes on the other vessels and the environment around them—after all, you never knew when you might be forced to react to an unexpected situation, be it an accident or an assassination attempt.

He made a mental note to bring up the necessity of constant vigilance with Shepard and Vakarian at a later time; at the moment, however, they had something else to discuss.

"Her name is Liara T'Soni," he said. "She's been an information broker for only a few years, but she has already built up an admirable network of informants and amassed a huge amount of data on everything and everybody that matters. Possibly, even on those that don't."

As he spoke, his attention drifted over to a yellow skycar on their left. It had been keeping pace with them for at least fifteen seconds now—a bit longer than he was comfortable with, given the perfect opportunity such a parallel path could afford for an ambush attack. He dropped their shuttle's speed by a small amount to get behind the other vehicle, and slid a hand over his side arm in preparation for a firefight.

His concern, however, had been unwarranted; in a few moments, the yellow car descended into a lower lane and veered off to the right, then disappeared in the sea of cabs that flowed ceaselessly between the gleaming buildings of the city.

Bau's eyes darted around for a few moments, searching for any other signs of danger, and when he found none, he dropped his hand from his gun and turned his attention back to the lecture he'd started on before his thoughts had been interrupted by the possible threat.

"But, more importantly," he continued without missing a beat, "she's reliable and trustworthy. I've never received any piece of data or information from her that wasn't correct, and if she promises something, she'll do whatever she can to deliver. And that, in our business, is priceless. When your job is to run around the galaxy, catching criminals and solving the Council's problems, good information can mean the difference between failure and success. So, when you find yourselves in a tough spot in the future, do not hesitate to use a dependable resource like Miss T'Soni."

Not receiving any answer from the back seats, he flicked his eyes over to the rearview mirror to check if his pupils were even listening. Shepard was staring out the window, but her head dipped down in a small nod; Bau could only hope that it meant that she'd understood the importance of his advice and had taken it to heart. Vakarian seemed to be suppressing a yawn—whether because of sleep deprivation (really, just how much time did other races need for sleeping, anyway?) or because of boredom, he couldn't tell. Of course, as a former cop, Garrus was probably more than aware of the value of being able to rely on a respectable source of information—but that was precisely why the young turian needed to pay attention to what his mentor was offering here.

Bau was about to say something about the matter when Garrus caught his eye in the mirror and made an effort to show that he had, in fact, been listening to every word the Spectre had uttered.

"Anything else you know about her?" he asked. "How did she become an information broker? You said she's only been doing this for a couple of years?"

Bau nodded and pursed his lips as he tried to recall all the facts he had stored about Miss T'Soni in his brain. "Well, I know that she used to be an archaeologist. In fact, she was recognized and highly respected in her field. But then she had some kind of falling out with the Asari Academy of Archaeology about a dig site she'd worked on, and somehow, she ended up on Illium. Her talent for cataloguing large amounts of data and drawing conclusions from the tiniest details has, without a doubt, helped make her the best at what she does."

Garrus hummed quietly as he listened to the scoop about his potential future contact, then turned his gaze to the impressive skyline of the glowing city as the shuttle began to descend.

"An archaeologist. Huh. Every informant I've met before has been a small time criminal. This should be interesting."

 

* * *

Garrus wasn't quite sure what he'd expected before they'd entered Liara T'Soni's office, but he was fairly certain this hadn't been it.

For starters, she seemed young—very young, especially for an asari who already had a distinguished academic career behind her. But what piqued his interest even more than the information broker's appearance was the ruthless and efficient way she was handling an unknown caller just as they strolled into her room.

"Pay me, or I'll flay you— _with my mind_ ," she said, snarling those last few words with enough lethal menace to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks.

Garrus certainly felt a cold chill run down his spine. He had absolutely no doubt the asari had the capability to make good on her promise and, if she chose to do so, the results would not be pretty. Apparently, the unlucky bastard at the other end of the line had the same thought, for he stammered out a desperate apology and a frantic oath that he was positively, definitely going to pay every last bit of the credits he owed.

"Well," Garrus murmured, leaning closer to his human teammate so he could whisper quietly in her ear, "that was pretty impressive. Archaeology must be a much more cutthroat field than I imagined."

Shepard shoved an elbow into his side to shush him, but didn't hold back an amused snicker when she threw a quick glance up at him.

The broker ended the conversation and gave a bashful wave of her hand when she turned around and caught sight of her visitors. "Oh, Spectre. My apologies. I wasn't aware that you were here already. How nice to see you again." Her gaze slid over to Garrus and Shepard standing patiently in the back, but she waited for the salarian to make the introductions.

"Miss T'Soni," Bau said with a small bow, "it's good to see you, too. This is Officer Garrus Vakarian from Citadel Security and Commander Jane Shepard from the Systems Alliance. They are working with me at the moment."

The broker nodded at Garrus and Shepard, and gestured at the chairs arranged neatly in front of her desk. "Ah, the new Spectre candidates. Lovely to meet you. Please, sit down." She took a seat herself, leaned forward, and tented her fingers as she regarded the group in front of her. "So, how may I be of assistance?"

Bau opened up his omni-tool's interface and called up the holo screen to play the surveillance videos he had obtained from Detective Anaya. "As you undoubtedly remember, I've been on the trail of Kasumi Goto for quite some time. A few days ago I was informed that both she and her partner, Thane Krios, had made a visit to Nos Astra. They stayed at Hotel Lessaria and later, they infiltrated the Dantius Towers and killed Nassana Dantius. Unfortunately, by the time I got there, they were gone. I need to find out where they went."

"Yes, I've heard some reports about the assassination," T'Soni said, keeping her gaze on the grainy footage running on the Spectre's omni-tool. "Frankly, I'm not surprised. She hasn't exactly made a lot of friends around here. I haven't received any information about a contract on her life, though. At least, not recently. I wonder if it was a personal matter?"

Bau cocked his head. "I suppose that's possible. However, my main concern at this moment is the whereabouts of Miss Goto and her partner." He tapped on a few buttons and, a second later, the broker's desk terminal lit up with a flashing blue light in its bottom right corner. "I've just sent you the details of the ship they chartered to get off world. According to Detective Anaya's files, the company was not very forthcoming with their flight plan information, but I'm hoping this data will still help in tracking them down somehow. Maybe one of your sources has heard something, or seen them land somewhere or stop at a fuel depot."

The asari glanced at her computer display, and touched an icon to open up the new message. "Ah. The _Lortek Kun._ That's one of Pitne For's ships. That is quite fortunate —I have a contact in his office who might be able to get the information for us. It may take a while, but I am confident that we'll be able to find out something. In the meantime," she continued, turning her gaze back to the video footage and pointing a graceful finger at the scene playing on the screen at that very moment, "you could pay a visit to the bar in the Eternity lounge. It appears that your marks spent some time there during their stay in Nos Astra. Maybe the bartender has overheard something." The broker's lips quirked down in a strange, bitter little smirk as she leaned back in her chair. "Aethyta's hearing can be quite good when she wants it to be."

The video playback stopped on Bau's omni-tool, and he turned off the interface with a quick nod. "Yes, that's a brilliant idea. Officer Vakarian and Commander Shepard can do that while I conduct my investigation at the hotel."

"Wonderful." T'Soni stood up and slowly walked over to her door in a gentle indication that their session was over. "I will let you know the moment I have the information you seek."

 

* * *

As far as bars went, the Eternity didn't seem too bad. It was certainly much nicer than anything on Omega; there were no crowds, no drunken yelling from the shadows, no spilt drinks sticking to your boots on the floor. Even the music felt somewhat subdued, lacking that obnoxiously loud, eardrum-shattering thrum that vibrated through your bones long before you even reached Afterlife's doors.

If they were lucky, this place was going to lack in human-hating, poison-happy employees as well.

The spacious sit-down area that lead to the actual bar was almost deserted at this time of the day, but still, Shepard and Garrus kept their voices low as they discussed their battle plans on their way to the back room.

"Listen," Garrus said, "we have to be careful about our approach here. Most bartenders don't want to talk about their patrons to just anybody—it would be bad for business. So, let me lead with the questioning, all right?"

Shepard gave him an indifferent shrug. "Fine. You're the detective. I'll try to follow along. I'll just—"

She stopped and froze as they rounded the corner, and for a long moment, all she seemed to be able to do was stare at the bar's inhabitants. Incredulity soon gave way to murderous annoyance on her face, though, and she let out a curse, grabbing Garrus by the elbow and yanking him along as she quickly retreated behind the wall and pressed her body against it.

Garrus shot her a confused glare and made a show of rubbing his arm through the thick metal plating of his hardsuit. "Is there a reason why you almost dislocated my shoulder?"

She let go of his elbow with a sheepish look and raised the same hand to rake her fingers through her hair. "Sorry. Maybe we should, uh, come back later."

Garrus narrowed his eyes. Something was definitely wrong here. He'd never seen her so flustered; even on Zorya, when they'd been under attack by that damned gunship, she'd kept her cool—well, as much as one could do such a thing while diving for cover and trying to not get blasted to hell. And yet, here she was now, chewing on her fleshy lips and shooting desperate glances at the exit door at the other end of the room, and, although Garrus would never really had called himself an expert on the outward signs of human emotions, he had a terrible, terrible gut feeling that something very unpleasant, very unsettling, had happened just a moment ago. Something that had put her on edge and had rattled her to the core.

"What is it?" he asked, trying (and mostly failing) to hold back the nervous growl creeping into his voice.

She huffed out a sigh and finally looked up at him. "My stalker. Of all the places in this damned galaxy—"

Garrus's brow plates tightened in a concerned frown and his entire body tensed into the posture of a warrior on alert. He'd been right. This _was_ serious. "You have a stalker?"

"Yeah. Well, more like an obsessed fan. Not the dangerous, deranged kind; just a harmless idiot. Still, it might be better to talk to the bartender without him there."

Garrus blinked at her in confusion, then sidled up to the corner and took a peek around it.

The only customer at the bar was a human male. He wore a set of armor not unlike Shepard's and, at the moment, he was yelling something about red sand and shutting down the entire establishment.

"Is he in the Alliance, too?"

"What? No!" She leaned around Garrus's bulky frame to sneak a quick look, and let out an annoyed groan when her gaze settled on Conrad Verner's outfit. She hadn't even noticed it before. "He must have bought that at some costume shop. Idiot."

"Okay." Garrus pulled back from the wall and flexed his talons, and curled them into tight fists. "You know, we could just take care of him. Teach him a lesson. The barkeep might even be grateful enough to give us the information we need."

Shepard flicked her eyes up at the ceiling and heaved out a heavy sigh, then rolled her neck and shook out her arms as though she was preparing for a particularly tough battle. "Fine. I'll go talk to him."

Garrus's jaws dropped. That wasn't exactly what he'd meant when he'd suggested that they teach this guy a lesson. "Umm… _Talk_?"

"Yeah. Why, what did _you_ have in mind?"

Oh, he had some really, really excellent ideas, but they all involved varying degrees of bodily harm and humiliation, and he seriously doubted that any of them would have met with her approval. So, he tamped down a snarl, scratched the back of his neck, and looked away. "Uh, nothing."

"Okay, then." She took a deep breath and marched up to the counter, and he grudgingly followed behind.

 

* * *

It didn't take long for Garrus to come to the conclusion that Shepard had been absolutely right. Her number one fan was, indeed, an idiot.

Nevertheless, people like that tended to get themselves—or worse, others—killed, and in Garrus's opinion, they needed to be dealt with in the strictest manner possible before they could do some significant damage. This wasn't his show, however, so he decided to simply stand back, at least for now, with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his hips leaning back on one leg, and watch.

At first, the human male had appeared to be just like any of the other run-of-the-mill obsessive admirers Garrus had had to deal with during the early years of his C-Sec career, when the most exciting part of his beat had been the occasional removal of the overly pushy gawkers from the front gates that lead to the residences of the Presidium's most famous celebrities.

After his initial, breathless reaction to Shepard's sudden appearance by his side, however, Conrad Verner's euphoric behavior had quickly given way to that of a man on a mission, and now here he was, pacing up and down, gesticulating wildly and blabbing on and on about following in his idol's footsteps, fighting crime, and cleaning up the galaxy.

Garrus was starting to get annoyed, but Shepard merely palmed her forehead and rubbed her temples, staying quiet as she listened to this lunatic's monologue—that is, until the man got to the part where he was going to become the second human Spectre and maybe even work together with the commander. Apparently, that was the last straw; Shepard's shoulders tensed and she stepped forward, ready to finally make it clear exactly what she thought about this whole affair.

"Conrad," she said, jabbing a finger at his chest, "do you even have any combat training? And what does your wife think about all this?"

Garrus's mandibles went slack in an astonished gape. Had he heard it right? This man actually had a wife? And, more importantly, just how many times had Shepard had to deal with this guy to know such intimate details about his life?

Conrad waved off his hero's concern. "Training? I don't have time for training! Don't you get it, Shepard? People need help. They need me. Take this bar, for example." He lowered his voice and leaned closer, as though he was about to reveal top-secret information, and whispered, "I heard that it's a front for a red sand operation. And _I_ will stop it."

"Who the hell told you that?" the bartender piped up from behind the counter. "We don't sell that stuff here. Besides, red sand is legal on Illium, you dumbass. You just need a license."

Conrad ignored the asari's protests and went on, keeping his manic gaze on the commander. "And my wife is totally supportive. She even bought me the tickets so I could fly around the galaxy and do all this good work."

Garrus caught the bartender's eyes as she slapped her hand onto her forehead with a loud groan, and he damn near bit his own tongue off in a valiant effort to stop himself from laughing.

Shepard made a tsking sound and shook her head. "Conrad, Conrad, Conrad. And you believed her?"

"Wh-what? What do you mean?"

"It's obvious that it was all just a test. She wanted to see what mattered to you more: saving other people, or taking care of _her_. What if she needs you? What if _she_ needs saving? Will you ever forgive yourself if something happens to her while you're away, roaming the galaxy? She's probably home all alone now, crying and miserable and scared. Is that what you want?"

Conrad Verner's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. He looked as though somebody had just dumped a bucket of ice cold water onto his head. "You… you really think so?"

"Absolutely. But it's not too late. Go back home and take care of your wife and your neighbors and your family. They need you just as much as the people of Illium. Maybe even more. Show them what you're made of. Show them what you can do. I'll take care of business here; you take care of business at home. All right?"

Conrad stood staring at her, dumbfounded and confused, but after a long moment, he reached behind his neck and gave her an awkward nod. "You're… you're right. Thank you. You've probably just saved my marriage. And maybe my wife's life, too!"

Shepard's lips pulled into a devious smile. "No problem. And remember, if she ever tells you again that it's all right for you to go, don't believe her. She doesn't really mean it. She's just testing you. What she really wants is for you to always be by her side. Don't ever leave her—she needs you."

"Yes, yes, I'll do as you say. Thank you, Commander!"

Shepard watched him storm away, and once he was gone, she turned around with a satisfied snort and flicked her eyes over to her teammate.

Garrus gave her an impressed nod. "That was evil. Nice work." She grinned up at him, thoroughly pleased with herself, but before she could say something, he went on. "Of course, you're aware you've just ruined that poor woman's life."

She barked out a throaty laugh. "Well, _that poor woman_ deserved it for unleashing him onto the entire galaxy."

"Exactly," the bartender cut in. "Thank you for dealing with that moron. I was _this_ close to throwing a singularity on his ass, but that would have caused property damage. Which would have come out of my pay. I wasn't very keen on that."

The commander strolled up to the bar and leaned her hip against the counter, flashing the asari a charming smile. "You're most welcome."

Aethyta pulled out a glass from under the sink and placed it in front of her new customer. "So, what will you have, babe?"

"Hmm… How about some Serrice Ice Brandy?"

"Sure." The asari picked out a bottle from the shelf behind her and, while she unscrewed the top, she turned her deep violet eyes to Garrus. "And you?"

"Some Cipritine dark ale, if you have any."

Aethyta rolled her eyes. "Please. We're on Illium. Of course we do. If you have the money, you can buy whatever the hell you want here. You could ask for a plate of diamond crusted varren shit, and somebody would sell it to you." She poured them their drinks and stood back from the counter, folding her arms and watching them as they lifted their glasses to their lips.

Whether she was bored or she was still grateful for their intervention with Conrad Verner—or maybe she just had a loquacious nature to begin with—that was a good sign, as far as Garrus's planned interrogation went. He took a sip and, after a moment, he asked, feigning friendly interest in the bartender's professional life, "So… do you get a lot of customers like that idiot we just chased off?"

Aethyta jerked up a shoulder in a shrug. "Sometimes. Nobody else has threatened to shut down the bar, though. That was new."

Garrus gave her an amused snort. "Yeah. That was… interesting." He waited a few heartbeats, pretending to contemplate the bubbles in his glass, before he threw out the bait he'd been preparing ever since they'd walked into this place. "Speaking of customers, have you seen our friends here? They are sort of hard to miss: a human woman and a drell male. We were supposed to meet them at your bar, but we were delayed a couple of days and couldn't get here in time. I'm afraid we might have missed them."

The barkeep lifted the brandy bottle and cocked an eyebrow at Shepard in silent inquiry and, when the human gave her a nod, she refilled her glass. "Yes, they came here a couple of times. Strange ones, those two."

"Tell me about it." Garrus took another sip, waiting a few seconds for any more voluntarily supplied information, but when none came, he returned his gaze to the asari. "Any idea where they might have gone? Did they say anything?"

"They weren't exactly the chatty type. At least, not with me. But I did hear them talk about planning to go to some party. The woman made her boyfriend try a few human drinks and learn their names. I guess she didn't want to be embarrassed by his ignorance. Or didn't want him to get ass drunk on something he couldn't handle. Who knows."

She shrugged her shoulders and picked up a rag from under the counter, and commenced carefully wiping down the metallic surface of the bar while she started on a long dissertation about all the interesting effects different kinds of alcohol could have on different species, which somehow veered off into a long story about her life and the Matriarchy and her parents and the final battle of their lives.

Apparently, they weren't going to get any more useful information out of her, but Shepard seemed absolutely fascinated by the asari's storytelling skills, and, whether on purpose or not, she ignored every little subtle attempt Garrus made about wrapping up their investigation and getting out of this place.

It was a relief when their omni-tools pinged with Jondum Bau's message calling them back to the information broker's office, and Garrus pushed away from the counter with a relieved sigh. "Sorry. We have to go. Nice talking with you."

The barkeep took his credit chit and gave them a nod of farewell. Well, she gave _him_ a nod; to Shepard, she gave a small, warm smile. "Watch yourself out there, babe."

Shepard waved a hand as they headed out of the bar and threw a 'You, too' over her shoulder. She was in a suspiciously good mood, considering how little they'd actually learned during their conversation with the asari.

"Well, we're not much wiser," Garrus said as they approached the door. "I hope Bau had more luck."

Shepard shrugged. "I don't know, I think that little tidbit about the party might come in handy. We'll see."

"Yeah. I guess so." The door slid open, and Garrus waved a hand at it with exaggerated flair. "After you. Babe."

His mandibles spread wide and his eyes lit up in glee when his joke sputtered a laugh out of her. She sure was a receptive audience—and he had to admit that he loved that. He loved that _very_ much.

She nudged his shoulder with her own and looked up at him with a grin. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Cute, huh? I would have preferred _ravishingly handsome_ , but I guess it's still better than _ugly bastard_."

She laughed again and he happily followed her down the corridor. Maybe that asari bartender had been good for something after all.

 

* * *

"I have good news," Liara T'Soni said once they'd all filed into her office and settled down on the chairs they'd vacated only a couple of hours before. "I know where your targets are."

Shepard couldn't hold back an impressed little whistle. "That was fast."

The broker gave her a slight smile and a nod, and continued. "Yes, we've been lucky. My contact at Pitne For's office has come through: according to the information he's been able to find, the ship is on its way to Bekenstein."

"Bekenstein?" Jondum Bau tapped his chin. "I wonder what they're plotting." He tilted his head and turned to his protégés, flicking his large eyes between the two. "Have you learnt anything useful?"

"Only that they've been making some preparations to go to a party," Garrus said. "If it means anything, there might be human alcoholic drinks served there; Thane Krios has been instructed by Kasumi Goto about their names and effects."

Bau's index finger paused for a moment before it continued tapping his chin, a bit slower this time. "Hmm. That might actually mean something. My investigations found that they did some shopping during their stay in Nos Astra. Fancy clothes, extravagant gifts, and some kind of a large box."

T'Soni fired up the interface on her computer console and started a complicated search algorithm. "Let's see... Bekenstein, human party, gifts—ah, here we go. According to the local society news, there are several of those that are going to take place soon, but there's one that I think might be worth checking out. I'm guessing if Kasumi Goto and Thane Krios _are_ planning a heist, it would be at the residence of someone rich and important."

Bau leaned forward in his chair. "You got someone like that there?"

"Yes. Donovan Hock. He's going to have a huge birthday party at his home in six days. And..." She scrolled down in the article, and pointed a slender finger at one of the names. "Apparently, one of the guests is going to be a drell."

The Spectre's face lit up. "Excellent." He turned to his pupils, and beamed an ecstatic smile at them.

"Commander Shepard, Officer Vakarian, it looks like we're going to a birthday party."

Shepard wasn't nearly as impressed by the news. The corners of her lips drooped down in an unhappy frown, and it took all of her rigorous military training to prevent her from slamming her forehead into the asari's desk.

This could only mean one thing. She was going to have to wear a damn dress. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks, and comments - I really appreciate them. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.


	16. Dress-up

Commander Shepard was not, and never had been, one to back away from any challenge her life somehow always managed to throw at her. She'd survived Mindoir, boot camp, the ordeals of her N7 training, and made the batarians that had attacked Elysium regret that they'd ever been born.

And yet, sitting in Liara T'Soni's office now, contemplating their forthcoming mission to Bekenstein, she couldn't help but think that if somebody, _anybody,_ had told her beforehand just how much dress-up this whole Spectre training business was going to involve, she might have thought twice before accepting her nomination to become the Council's first human special agent.

Not that she hadn't been aware that a job like this meant more than simply charging criminal posts with guns blazing and biotics flaring. It was only logical that sometimes it came with long investigations, undercover work, and infiltration in disguise, as well. She just wished that there were more of the former, and much, much less of the latter.

Nevertheless, they had a mission to plan, so she clamped down on her irritation about her impending wardrobe change, and set her focus on the specifics of their upcoming operation.

"Okay. How are we going to get in?" she asked, pressing her gloved fingers into the skin on her forehead in a sad little effort to gently knead away the nagging headache building up inside her skull. "I doubt that we can just stroll into Donovan Hock's mansion and crash his birthday party."

Liara T'Soni glanced up from the data files she'd been studying about their destination and the host of the event, and furrowed her painted brows. "That would be highly inadvisable. According to the information I have here, he is not a very agreeable person. And, as the head of a powerful smuggling and weapons dealing organization, I am certain that the building he resides in is heavily guarded and fortified."

Garrus gave a small nod of agreement and crossed one leg over the other. "Indeed. With a man like that, I can virtually guarantee that every possible entry point will be crawling with guards, and arriving guests will be checked against a strict list. On the other hand," he continued, turning his gaze to the Spectre sitting in between Shepard and himself, "it would be in his best interest to cooperate and let us in so we can capture the thief and prevent her from making away with whatever she's planning on liberating from his house."

Bau shook his head. "No. He mustn't know. The less people are informed, the better. Hock might take some precautions, or somebody might say something somewhere that could reveal our plans. Kasumi Goto is extremely careful. The smallest little deviation from the usual routine of her victim or any hint of a trap might spook her, and who knows when I'll get another chance like this—if ever. No," he repeated his objection with a determined hand wave, "we'll just have to find a way to get on that list. Once we're inside, we can try to blend in, track down the thief, and catch her in the act. If the drell mentioned in that article is Thane Krios under a false name, that's probably how he plans to gain entry as well."

Garrus pulled his mandibles tight into his face and tapped his fingers on his armored knee as he considered this possible setup. "I suppose Kasumi Goto will be one of the guests, too. They might come together; if not, we'll have to watch the drell closely and see who he interacts with."

Bau shook his head again. "I doubt she'll make an appearance like that. I think she'll sneak in with her cloak on and operate from the shadows. But, yes, by keeping an eye on Thane Krios, we might eventually find her."

"May I make a suggestion?" Liara T'Soni interjected. At the Spectre's encouraging nod, she went on. "Judging by the names in the article, this event is going to be as much for pleasure as for business. A lot of these people are high-powered individuals: mercenary leaders, weapons dealers, crime bosses. You might consider giving your aliases a background in one of these fields."

She leaned back, folded her arms in front of her chest, and slid her gaze around the room. After a few moments of consideration, she powered down her computer console and pushed her chair away from her desk.

"You'll also need some party clothes."

 

* * *

Of all the things Shepard had never expected to happen, this had definitely been at the very top of the list. She was actually starting to _miss_ the dress she'd worn on Noveria.

Sure, that stupid thing was impractical and confining, but at least it was sturdy and warm, had long sleeves, and had the decency to provide _some_ protection from her chin down to her toes. These silly little outfits, on the other hand, that Liara T'Soni kept pulling off the racks in the fancy boutique she had dragged her and Garrus to, holding those clothes up for inspection as though they were some kind of prized trophies, were nothing more than small pieces of flimsy fabrics held together by a little thread and a prayer. Even worse, they barely covered the vital parts of a person's body—if they covered them at all; most of them, as a matter of fact, left either the stomach or the waist area utterly exposed. For what purpose, Shepard had absolutely no idea. It was one of those mysteries in fashion and style that had always left her befuddled—which was precisely the reason why she'd decided to accept the information broker's offer to help her and Garrus with their clothes shopping for Donovan Hock's birthday party.

She was seriously beginning to regret that decision now.

Maybe they should have turned her down, then marched into the first clothing store they saw, grabbed something simple, and hurried back to the ship to help Bau with his hacking efforts to get them onto Hock's guest list. It would have been much better than trudging after the broker up and down these aisles, examining—and rejecting—every single stupid dress the asari picked out.

The Spectre, of course, had avoided this blasted shopping trip. He'd said he was not going to need any special outfit; he had other plans for getting himself—and their weapons and armor —onto the premises on the day of the birthday party. Shepard wished he'd given _her_ that job, whatever it was, but it was the Spectre's decision, and she wasn't exactly in a position to argue about it.

If Garrus's bored expression and the glassy glaze over his eyes were anything to go by, the only person truly enjoying this whole experience was the broker herself. Judging by T'Soni's own admission that she'd shared with them on their way to the store, she hardly ever had the chance to do things like this. She worked most of the time, barely going anywhere other than her office and her home, and hadn't been able to just relax and not worry about building her information empire in quite a while.

Which was all very nice, but it didn't exactly make Shepard loathe this whole process any less. Her skin itched and her fingers twitched, and when she felt like she couldn't take it anymore, she decided to finally speak up.

"Look, Miss T'Soni," she said, raking her fingers through her hair and doing her best to stop herself from tearing her locks out in frustration, "I appreciate your assistance, but... could we maybe find something with a little more protection and a few less holes?"

Liara T'Soni's arms, heavy with a big bundle of outfits she'd picked out for the commander's consideration, dropped down in disappointment.

"You don't like these?" she asked, blinking down at the collection of hideous items in her hands. "But this is the latest fashion. I'm certain that everybody will wear something like this at the party."

Liara T'Soni's wide, blue eyes darted over to the shop's proprietor, who'd been hovering around just a few feet away. She probably hoped for some backup about her claim, but the storekeeper, all smiles until now, merely turned her nose up and stormed away. Before Shepard could suggest that they go someplace else, however, the asari was back with a disapproving pout.

"Maybe this would be more to your liking," she said, shoving something black and shiny into the commander's hands.

Shepard held the item at an arm's length, stretching out the crumpled fabric to take a better look. It was a leather dress, sleeveless and short, with a plunging neckline and a silver band at the throat.

' _Oh, yes, this would be perfect—were I to go to a hookers' convention,'_ she wanted to quip, but decided to bite back the snarky retort. She'd probably caused enough damage to the information broker's reputation in her favorite store already, and the last thing she wanted to do was to antagonize her future resource any more than she already had.

Besides, the dress did have a few advantages. It was made out of adequately thick leather, which might be able to absorb at least a fraction of a punch or a knife in the ribs; it had no holes, thankfully, and the above-knee length allowed for longer strides and maybe even some running. So, she quirked her lips up into a cheeky smile and said, unable to resist annoying the scowling shopkeeper at least a little bit after all, "This might just do."

"I'm pleased," the asari replied in a tone cold enough to turn a roaring fire into a block of ice. She gave a curt nod, and walked away to assist some other, no doubt more sophisticated and higher-class, customers.

Liara T'Soni dropped the bundle of rejected clothes onto an empty chair and blew out a heavy sigh. "Fine. Then go try that dress on, please. Meanwhile, I'll help Officer Vakarian find a suit to wear. And please show me the fit when you're done. I'd like to see it."

 

* * *

With all the armor pieces she'd had to remove first, it took Shepard several minutes before she could finally pull the dress on. The zipper was in the back, which she couldn't yank all the way up by herself, but even without that, it was obvious that this was going to be a pretty snug fit.

At least it wasn't uncomfortable; the fabric hugged her curves but didn't constrict her movements too much, which was definitely a plus.

She wasn't sure how she felt about the cleavage, though. She wasn't someone you would call a prude, but she wasn't really used to showing off her assets and calling attention to the valley between her breasts like this. It felt… slightly embarrassing.

Oh, well, it wasn't like Bau would care, or if she gave a shit what the assholes at Hock's party would think. Garrus, on the other hand, was another matter. As far as she knew, turian women didn't have breasts, and she wasn't sure how Garrus really felt about this part of a human's anatomy. Sure, he'd done well enough with them on Noveria, but did he actually find them attractive, or did he think they were really, really strange?

She stared at the mirror for a long moment, as though waiting for her own reflection to give her some kind of reassuring answer and lay her nagging doubts to rest. Sadly, her doppelganger merely stared back at her, just as lost and insecure as she felt, and shook her head and sighed along with her when she finally gave up.

Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her tousled hair and exited the dressing room, locking it behind her with the temporary key card an attendant had shoved in her hand the moment they'd entered the premises.

She had an asari to find.

 

* * *

Liara T'Soni was alone, standing in a neighboring aisle and thumbing the thin material of a colorful outfit when Shepard spotted her and walked over.

"I think the fit is okay," she said, turning around and showing her back to the asari, "but I can't pull up the zipper by myself. Can you help with that?"

"Certainly." Liara slid up the tab, then rested her hands on the commander's shoulders and slowly spun her around to examine the rest of the outfit. "Well, it's not what I would have chosen, but it looks good on you."

Even if she'd wanted to, Shepard couldn't have held back the grateful smile that spread across her face at the young woman's compliment. "You think?"

The asari smiled back. "Yes. I do."

"So..." Shepard scratched the back of her neck and glanced around. "Where's Garrus?"

"He's gone to try on a suit we found. Which, I might add, took a much shorter time than —ah, here he is."

The commander's lips curled up into a grin and she whirled around to face the direction the asari had nudged her head. She'd planned to make some joke about the turian having to play Cinderella, just like herself, but the words got stuck in her throat and her smirk morphed into a slack-jawed "oh" when her teammate rounded the corner and came to a stop a few feet away from them.

Damn, but he looked good. The blue-and-white tuxedo he and the asari had picked out was absolutely perfect. It fit him like a glove, accentuating his broad shoulders and slender waist, and it brought out the beautiful color of his eyes—what was there not to like?

Well, there was, actually, one thing: compared to his classy outfit, her own dress felt woefully inadequate now. In fact, it made her feel like a tramp.

Her insecurities came roaring back, and she almost fled to the dressing room like a child to tear off this ridiculous getup when Garrus said something that filled her chest with warmth and glued her feet to the floor.

"You look nice."

Her heart thudded loudly as she glanced up and caught his gaze, his eyes hungry and intense as he raked them down her body, lingering for a moment on her cleavage, and then much, much longer, on her waist.

"Thanks. You, too," she croaked out, once she could make an intelligent sound again.

Their lovely little moment was, unfortunately, interrupted by the broker's renewed nagging from behind.

"Yes, the clothes are good, but you need some matching shoes, too."

Shepard peered down at her feet. The asari was right; she couldn't very well wear her armored boots with this thing. And neither could Garrus with his suit.

She lifted her eyes up at the ceiling and her shoulders rose and fell as she blew out a deep sigh. This damn shopping trip was never going to end.

"There's a footwear section over there," Liara pointed out, gesturing at the far end of the spacious room. "Let's see if we can find something that complements your outfits."

She started to walk away, and they followed after, and almost knocked the information broker down when she suddenly stopped and turned her head around. "We should look for something for Officer Vakarian first," she said, shooting a pointed glance at the commander. "It would be easier."

Before Shepard could even think of a retort, T'Soni had already resumed marching toward their destination.

Garrus gave his teammate an amused grin. He didn't say anything, but Shepard knew him well enough by now to recognize his facial cues. He was gloating, that cheeky bastard. She glowered at him, but he just chuckled and walked on, leaving her standing in the middle of the aisle.

Shepard shook her head and rolled her eyes, and waited for a short time before she trailed after him. If she had to keep suffering through this day, she might as well get something good out of it and watch him from behind.

 

* * *

Liara T'Soni, of course, had been right. Finding some appropriate footwear for Garrus was no problem. Choosing something acceptable for Shepard, on the other hand, took a bit more work.

As far as Shepard was concerned, though, it wasn't her fault. Not at all. Not when T'Soni's idea of an appropriate shoe for the occasion was a stiletto with a ten inch heel and a heel tip that looked smaller than a pencil eraser.

"Just how am I supposed to walk in these?" she blurted out as soon as the asari had pulled the wretched thing out of its box. "Not to mention, run, if I need to."

Garrus picked the matching pair up and turned it over in his large hands. "Would be good as a weapon, though. You could easily take somebody's eye out with this."

Shepard laughed; Liara T'Soni scowled.

"All right," the asari said. "How about these? They're not as pretty, but they might be more comfortable."

She opened another box she'd brought over and handed it to the commander. Inside, there lay a pair of black leather shoes, simple and classy, with a pointed toe and a slim, but medium-sized, heel.

Shepard took one look and gave them back. "Hell, no. I don't know about your feet, but mine would be screaming in agony if I tried to squeeze them into those."

Liara pressed her eyes shut for a moment. Shepard wondered if she was counting to ten. Whatever the asari did, it worked, because when she opened her eyes again and handed the commander yet another box, she sounded as patient and composed as ever. "Maybe this would work, then?"

Shepard peered inside the container. Well, this was more like it. The toe was somewhat rounded and, although the heel was a few inches high, at least it seemed solid enough to walk on. She pulled her boots off and slid her feet inside the shoes. They felt a bit weird, like all new shoes did, but it wasn't too bad.

She stood up and took a few steps. Okay, so these were probably going to work fine. The fact that she managed not to wobble in them was definitely a plus.

"I'll take them," she said, enormously glad that they were finally done with all this stupid shopping and could now get back to the ship and do something more important.

If only she could have been that lucky.

"Commander," Liara T'Soni said, holding up a hand to stop her before she could sit down on the bench and pull the shoes off, "please, walk around a little bit more."

Shepard came to a halt and stared at the asari as though she'd suddenly grown an extra head. "Why?"

"Please, just humor me."

"All right, fine." She sighed and trudged up and down the space, then turned back to look at her tormentor. T'Soni furrowed her brows and shook her head. Shepard put her hands on her hips. "What?"

"No offense, Commander, but you need to work on your walking. At least when you wear a dress."

Shepard's jaws dropped in an incredulous gape. "Say what, now?"

The broker sighed and stood up. "You walk like you're marching into battle, wearing heavy armor and an assortment of weapons on your back." She hunched her shoulders and pushed out her arms and legs as she lumbered around in a demonstration of Shepard's graceless, unfeminine gait.

The commander watched the asari's little show in shock, frozen still and not sure what to say, until she heard a chortle from the direction of her teammate. She snapped her head at Garrus and narrowed her eyes at the smirking bastard. "You can go back to the ship now, you know. No reason for you to stay."

The turian's grin merely widened. "That's all right. I'm having fun."

Shepard's lips quirked down in an annoyed grimace. "Of course you are."

"Commander," the broker called her attention back to herself, "now watch me. Keep your arms to your side, and put one foot in front of the other. You can add a little movement to your shoulders, too." She sauntered up and down, looking like a fashion model on a runway, virtually flowing along the carpet. "Now, you."

Shepard swallowed hard. Well, this was something they didn't teach at Alliance Academy. But, how hard could it be? She'd always been a fast learner. She could do this. She hoped.

She sucked in a deep breath and took a few tentative steps, trying to mimic the broker's graceful movements. Straight back, one foot in front of the other, arms by the side—yes, she could definitely do this.

The broker gave her an encouraging smile. "Much better."

Shepard grinned back at her and put a little more sway into her hips. She'd been in the military for so long, training and fighting, she'd almost forgotten how to be anything else but a soldier. It was nice to feel like a woman, not just a trained killer, for a change.

The thought of which brought her back to the subject of her recent daydreams—her turian teammate, sitting on the bench and probably still smirking as he watched her make a fool of herself.

She raised her gaze up from her feet to check what Garrus was doing, and almost faltered in her steps when she caught his eyes, wide open and fierce, glued to her hips and following every move, every sensuous swing she made. He certainly wasn't smirking now; in fact, she'd never seen him so intent, so serious, so full of fire like this before.

Never one to let go of such an opportunity, she turned around and sashayed away from him with an exaggerated swagger, then she strolled back to the bench and sat down by his side. "I think that was enough, don't you?" she asked sweetly.

"Maybe you should practice a little more." His voice rumbled deep, his flanging subharmonics vibrating with a rich tone she hadn't heard before. She could have sworn that she'd also heard a little bit of growl somewhere in there. Whatever it meant, it sent a jolt of heat to her groin.

"She'll do fine," Liara T'Soni said, oblivious to the electric charge in the air. "Just one more thing, though," she continued as she watched Shepard lean forward and prop her elbows on her knees. "When you sit, Commander, please try to remember that you're wearing a dress and press your legs together. Like this."

She slowly lowered herself down onto the seat and sat with thighs closed, ankles crossed, and legs slid a little bit to the side.

"It's much more lady-like."

Shepard blew out a sigh, but did as she'd been told. Yes, it was nice to feel like a woman for a while, but she couldn't wait to get back to playing the role of a soldier again.

 

* * *

By the time they made it back to the ship, it was late in the afternoon. They expected Jondum Bau to debrief them right away, but the Spectre had apparently made some other plans while they were gone: They bumped into him in the airlock just as they boarded the _Inandra._

"Oh, Officer Vakarian, Commander Shepard," the Spectre said as they narrowly avoided a collision in the tight space. "Glad to see you're back. I was just on my way to get something made for the mission. We'll talk once I'm done. I've made some progress!" he added, then stormed out, leaving the two of them to themselves.

Shepard and Garrus exchanged a short, befuddled glance before they shrugged their shoulders and walked on to the crew quarters.

They dropped their bags stuffed with the party outfits on their beds and, as if on cue, they both headed to the mess.

"You hungry?" Garrus asked. He reached behind him and took Shepard by the hand.

Shepard looked down at their intertwined fingers, then up at Garrus, and grinned.

"I'm starving."

"Me, too."

They rounded the corner and took some rations out of the cooling unit to heat up, and while the oven was doing its job, Garrus gave the commander a long look.

"I can't wait to see you in that dress again."

Shepard bit into her lower lip. "You like it?"

"Very much."

"Glad to hear it. Well, take a good look when I wear it at the party, because that's the last time you'll see it."

Garrus pushed away from the wall that he'd been leaning against. "Really? I was hoping that you'd put it on for our date. I think it would be… nice."

The oven pinged, but Shepard ignored it. She stepped closer to the turian and ran her fingers down his arm. "I might make an exception for that. As long as you're going to wear your suit."

Garrus reached for her arm, and mirrored her gesture. "Deal."

She pulled away and got the food out, and they sat down at the table to open up their packets and share a meal. After the first bite, Shepard looked up and gave her roommate a sly smile.

"Just don't get distracted by my outfit during the mission."

"I'll try. Though I think you'll have a worse time resisting my manly charm in that suit. I hope you'll be able to restrain yourself."

Shepard laughed. "Is that a challenge?"

"Could be."

"Oh, you're on. You're so on!"

She dug into her food and chewed and swallowed, and wondered if she was actually going to be able to win this bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions - they mean a lot. :)  
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.


	17. Party Time

In light of Donovan Hock's less than reputable profession, it came as no surprise that the security measures at his birthday party were just as extensive as Garrus had predicted.

Shepard had counted at least six guards even before she exited her rented vehicle; her identity was checked and double-checked against a strict guest list at the front door; and her gift to the host, an expensive-looking, but in fact forged, antique Thessian vase that Bau had somehow managed to procure on Illium, was thoroughly scanned before it was accepted and wheeled away.

Once she'd been allowed entry into Hock's opulent residence, a gentle stroll, carefully feigned to look like the self-guided tour of an impressed visitor, confirmed the presence of a comprehensive grid of cameras and more security personnel as well. Whatever Kasumi Goto and Thane Krios were after, it must be extremely valuable if they were willing to risk a heist in this place.

Shepard had no sympathy for criminals, but as she considered the odds of success of such an operation—during the daytime and under the noses of so many people, no less—she couldn't help admiring the audacity of it all. Whether the duo were actually going to be successful at reaching their goal before they were discovered and stopped remained to be seen, but regardless, as far as she was concerned, the endeavor by itself was worthy of at least a small measure of respect.

Sadly, she couldn't quite say the same thing about Liara T'Soni's abilities as a fashion advisor.

In fact, as the commander took a languid cruise around the reception hall and ball room and watched the space gradually fill up with the arriving guests, she soon came to the unfortunate conclusion that relying on the asari's help with her clothes shopping back on Illium might have been one of the stupidest mistakes of her life.

Sure, just as expected, all the women here were decked out in long dresses of various designs, and a fair number of those were, indeed, similar to the flimsy little things T'Soni had insisted each and every female guest was going to wear. Nevertheless, there was plenty of clothing on display as well that were more in line with Shepard's conservative Noveria outfit—which, much to the commander's chagrin, the broker had absolutely, categorically, _emphatically_ dismissed as unsuitable for the occasion.

To be fair, Shepard herself hadn't exactly done a stellar job either with her choice of evening attire. She hated to admit it, but perhaps that snooty shopkeeper in the posh boutique the broker had dragged them to had actually been right: the short, sleeveless, black leather dress she had eventually picked out and was wearing now stuck out like a sore thumb in this crowd and turned more than a few heads as she wove among the guests.

Not that she gave a damn about what these people thought about her or her fashion sense; what she did care about, though, was the fact that being so noticeable wasn't exactly helpful when trying to be subtle at surveying the area and staking out a target that could be so easily spooked.

Still, she did her best not to raise too many eyebrows as she ambled around, pretending to examine the artwork on the walls while she assembled a mental map of the premises and, at the same time, kept a watchful eye out for Kasumi Goto and her accomplice.

As far as she could tell, those two had not made an appearance yet. It made sense, actually: they probably planned to come a bit late, when the ball room had filled with guests already and Hock was occupied with his hosting duties—after all, the more people milling around, the easier it would be to blend in and disappear in the crowd.

That was something Shepard was trying to accomplish as well; although she had a convincing back story of being an up-and-coming, coldblooded mercenary leader far out in the Terminus Systems, interested in developing some kind of business relationship with Hock's weapons empire, she had no desire to actually run into the host of the party and start a potentially dangerous conversation with him. So, when she noticed the man by the indoor pool, dressed in an impeccable white suit and chatting up a pair of scantily clad asari with sparkling wine glasses in their hands, she took a sharp turn to the right and gave a wide berth to the giggling group as she made her way to the expansive balcony in the back.

Her steps slowed when she noticed a familiar figure there, leaning against the railing in front of a bed of exotic plants.

With the sun behind him and without his heavy armor, Garrus looked strangely slim in his well-fitting tuxedo. His head was turned to the side as he scanned something in the distance, bringing his odd, alien profile into sharp focus, and Shepard couldn't help the sudden, sad little pain that squeezed her heart at the all-too-familiar reminder of how different their species really were.

And yet, all it took for him to make her knees go weak and her stomach to tremble was to cast his brilliant blue eyes her way and rake them up and down her body as she approached the spot he'd taken up by the rail.

It was almost impossible not to flash him a smile, but she managed to school her features into a bored, disinterested expression as she sashayed towards him, swinging her hips just like Liara T'Soni had showed her. His gaze snapped to her curves and his mandibles quivered, but he stayed motionless, playing the part of his ruthless arms smuggler persona admirably well.

He kept his posture and cool demeanor even as she arrived at the railing, and pretended not to pay her any attention when she stopped a few feet away from him and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the metal bar.

"No problem getting in?" she asked in a low voice, keeping her gaze ahead and feigning an awed interest in the impressive skyline beyond.

"No. You?"

"Same. Seen our friends yet?"

"No." He lowered his head and pretended to smooth out a few non-existent wrinkles in his tunic, hiding the movement of his mouth plates as he talked. "Discovered the vault, though. Might be their target. That, or his private room." He made a slight nudge of his head towards the wing of the building he'd been studying just a few moments ago. "Either place will take some skill to get into. Which, according to Bau, those two have in spades."

"Yeah." She straightened up and ran her fingers along the back of her neck. "Anything else?"

"Well… there was this very attractive woman…"

Shepard's heart sank straight into her feet. Of all the men in the galaxy, she'd managed to fall for a damned player. Bloody fantastic.

Oblivious to her bitter misery, Garrus went on with his praise of the mystery female, practically purring out the words. "Long legs, nice… hair, _very_ supportive waist… She looks great."

Shepard pushed away from the railing and gave him a _look_ —the kind that, if it could have killed, it would have dropped him dead in an instant.

"How wonderful," she ground out through clenched teeth. "Why don't you go find her and get her extranet address, then? Maybe you can ask _her_ out on a date, too."

Garrus had the audacity to throw her an amused glance from the corner of his eye and flare his mandibles in a grin. "No need. We're serving on the same ship. And she's already agreed to a date on the Citadel. Unless you've changed your mind?"

Shepard's scowl turned to confusion for a second before her brows unknitted themselves and her lips twitched into a relieved—and slightly annoyed—smile. "You ass. You had me going there for a moment."

Garrus raked his gaze down her body. "I can relate. You've _really_ had _me_ going, too."

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help chortling out a small laugh. She bit into her lip and took a quick look around, hoping nobody had heard their little exchange. By luck, they were alone in this section of the house—except for Jondum Bau, who was presently approaching their location.

She barely recognized him at first; he was wearing the waiter's uniform of the poor salarian bastard that was supposed to serve drinks at the party that night but was instead sitting in a jail cell at the moment, all thanks to Spectre Bau's charge to Bekenstein Port Security that the man lacked the necessary legal documents to work in the local food industry.

Bau was pushing the fake caterer's cart he'd had specially made for this occasion back in Nos Astra, with its top covered in bottles of alcoholic drinks and glasses of all kinds, and the bottom, instead of extra supplies, hiding their team's armor and weapons.

As soon as he arrived at their spot by the rail, the Spectre made a show of offering them some drinks and, while Shepard and Garrus each took a glass, he murmured, with his back turned to the rest of the room, "I think they're here. I saw a drell arrive a moment ago. Looked like Krios."

"All right," Garrus said, depositing his drink onto the shiny silver tray. "Let's split up. I'll take the left side of the room."

He shot a quick, purposeful glance at Shepard before he swaggered away, chest puffed out, shoulders straight, and arms swinging casually by his side. Shepard watched him go, barely able to take her eyes off of his broad torso and strange hips until Bau's impatient throat clearing tore her mind out of its haze.

She handed the Spectre her glass with an apologetic nod and walked off, taking the opposite path from Garrus.

 

* * *

Despite being the only drell in the entire building, Thane Krios was not easy to find. He wove in and out of the crowd, somehow managing to vanish one moment and then materialize in a completely different area the next. With the three of them spread out over the territory, however, Shepard, Garrus, and Bau managed to track his movements fairly well.

Krios walked around for a while, most likely casing the security features of Donovan Hock's home, took a leisurely stroll down the stairs and the hallway that led to the vault, then, surprisingly, soon came up again. He seemed to have no apprehension about being seen by the host; he even listened to the self-aggrandizing rant by that pompous jackass about the great service he and his kind were _so graciously_ doing the galaxy.

Eventually, in spite of the morose-looking guard posted at the door, somehow he succeeded in getting into the area that led to Hock's private wing and bedroom.

Shepard tried to follow him, claiming to have permission to enter from the man of the house himself, but was summarily turned away and warned not to try again. She stomped away, chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to formulate another plan of attack, until she caught Garrus's eye a few feet away.

He made a slight motion of his head to the back, then he turned on his heels and sauntered towards the indicated direction. She trailed after him, stopping every once in a while for a moment, pretending to look at a statue or a painting on the way.

Garrus was waiting for her at the far end of the balcony, from where one could see Hock's bedroom quite well. There seemed to be some movement behind the glass walls of Hock's quarters; maybe the thief and the assassin were looking for something in there.

Garrus flicked his eyes at the staircase leading up to the bedroom, then made a gesture to the courtyard below. "If we jump down here, we could climb up to those windows, get in, and see what they're up to. Might even be able to surprise them and catch them in the act."

Shepard leaned over the railing to estimate the drop. It seemed doable; it would have been easier with her armor and plated boots on, but she was fairly certain that she could manage even without those.

"All right. I'll let Bau know." She tapped her radio behind her ear. "We're going in from the side."

Bau hummed in approval, but didn't say a word—he was probably serving people drinks in the ballroom and had no intentions of calling attention to himself by talking to the air.

Shepard and Garrus took a quick look around and, when no one was watching, vaulted over the rail to the patio below. By chance, the ground was soft and accommodating here, absorbing the impact from the fall. More importantly, it muffled the sound of their feet—which turned out to be a blessing, given the small security detail they found patrolling the area.

Garrus peeked around the corner of a column and immediately pulled his head back. He held up his hand, showing his three fingers for the three guards he'd counted, and slid out his concealed weapon from under his tunic.

Shepard nodded in understanding, reached under the hem of her dress, and removed her pistol from the holster she'd wrapped around her thigh. Garrus stilled for a moment, staring at the flash of her skin until she pushed the fabric back down, then he looked up at her, mandibles opening and closing in a flustered smile.

It probably killed him not to be able to say something witty right then, Shepard thought, and she smirked back at him with gleeful satisfaction before she curled her hand into a fist and readied a biotic burst to throw the guards against the wall.

She jumped out from cover and hurled the men across the courtyard, then followed up, along with Garrus, with a few well-placed shots straight into their brains. The men crumpled into a limp pile, their shocked expressions frozen on their faces for eternity, and the small space fell silent again until Shepard and Garrus hauled themselves up onto a container conveniently leaning against the back wall and broke the window with another shot, allowing them to climb into the corridor beyond.

Once inside, they stood still for a few seconds, listening for any alarms to go off, but there were none. Reassured by the silence, they began to stalk off towards the stairs leading up to Hock's bedroom, but paused and peered down to the first floor when the door down there opened with a clang and a group of guards burst through.

"Find the intruders!" an impatient voice barked out from what sounded like a radio comm as the heavy boots clambered up the stairs. "And for fuck's sake, do it fast and right. Any of you messes up, I'll skin you alive."

Shepard and Garrus exchanged an apprehensive glance. Without armor and better weapons, it would have been suicide to get caught between their targets and Hock's well-equipped security detail—especially in this stairway, with no good cover in sight. Their eyes frantically scanned the immediate area, trying to find anything to gain the upper hand. As it turned out, they were in luck—there was a door leading to another room at the end of the hallway they were standing in.

They darted towards that door as though their lives depended on it—which, of course, they did—and made it through just in time. The room turned out to be a small office, with bookcases and a desk and a black leather couch. They dove behind the bulky piece of furniture and aimed their guns at the entryway, waiting for the first trooper to charge inside.

He never came.

They stayed motionless and quiet for several minutes, hearts pounding and hands clenched around their weapons, until it became obvious that the guards had no idea about their presence in this room.

"Maybe they went straight to Hock's quarters," Shepard whispered.

Garrus lowered his gun and tore his gaze away from the door to glance down at her. "Yeah. They might have already done our job for us with our friends. I'm not sure if Bau will be pleased or pissed."

Shepard's lips pulled into a grimace as she relaxed her grip on her pistol as well. "Me neither."

She was going to get up, but before she could make her move, Garrus leaned closer and bumped her shoulder with his. His scent, earthy and metallic and so very pleasant, invaded her senses and made her stomach quiver, and she couldn't help but melt into his touch as he pressed against her side.

"So… come here often?" he asked, his subharmonics rumbling in a deep bass with exaggerated seductiveness.

Shepard sputtered out a laugh. "Really? Bad pick up lines, right here? Right now?" She leaned back a bit to look up into his eyes and gave him a coy smirk, batting her eyelashes at him. "Am I too distracting for you, Officer Vakarian?"

His mandibles opened and closed and his blue eyes twinkled brightly as he made a deep, reverberating vibration deep within his chest. It sounded wonderful; like a mixture of a growl and purr that sent a shockwave of heat straight to Shepard's groin. "Maybe. But I can't help it. You look so nice. And you smell so good."

Her cheeks flushed and her lips quirked up into a grin that she couldn't have stopped even if she wanted to. It was nice to know that he had the same reaction to her proximity as she did to his.

"Well… thanks," she said, forgetting all about the gloating she was going to do if she managed to win their little wager about who was going to get distracted by whom during this mission. Reluctantly, she stood up and motioned at the door. "We'd better check on our targets."

Garrus grabbed the back of the couch and pulled himself up into a standing position. "Right. They're probably dead, but we should make sure anyway."

 

* * *

The stairway felt eerily quiet as they crept up to the bedroom. Whatever had happened while they'd taken refuge in the office, it was definitely over now. Nevertheless, even if the thief and the assassin had been eliminated by Hock's men, there could have still been a guard or two left behind, so they inched forward as silently as they could, weapons cocked and ready in their extended hands as they scanned the space up ahead.

They made it to the door without a sound, and found it partially open. A lifeless body lay in the entryway in a pool of bright red blood, his feet blocking the sensors and preventing the panels from closing. It was one of the guards. His hands were still clutching an assault rifle that seemed to have turned out to be useless against his opponents.

There were more corpses further inside: some with a neat hole between their eyes, some with a scorched weapon blast to their chest, and one with a broken neck. None of them was Kasumi Goto or Thane Krios; the casualties all belonged to Donovan Hock's security detail.

Garrus lowered his weapon as he took in the status of the room. Other than the carnage at the front, the rest of the place seemed undisturbed.

"Impressive," he said. "Looks like Hock's men had barely had the chance to fire off a couple of rounds before they were all taken out. I see no blood in the back of the room, only a few bullet holes and burn marks. Our friends seem to be better than I expected."

Shepard heaved out an unhappy sigh. "Yeah. And they're probably all gone by now. I wonder if they found what they were looking for. Bau won't be happy, that's for sure." She tapped her radio behind her ear, and when she heard the telltale sound of a connection, she said, keeping her voice low, "They're not here anymore. Have they left the building?"

There was a small pause then a sharp sound of bottles clinking before the Spectre began to speak. Shepard guessed he'd moved away from the guests to a spot where he wasn't going to be overheard. "No. Still here. Went into another room. Back now. Looking around."

Shepard's eyes flicked to Garrus. He'd turned on his radio, too, and was listening. "Is the door to Hock's private wing still guarded?" he asked. "We need to get out."

"No. All clear. Come now."

Garrus and Shepard raised their weapons again, just in case, and hurried down the stairs, ready for any surprises, but they made it to the first floor without any further incidents.

Shepard pulled up the hem of her dress and slid her pistol back into its holster, and gave Garrus a devilish grin when his eyes darted to her upper thigh and his hand almost botched up returning his own gun to its harness.

"Ready?" she asked when, on the third try, he'd finally managed to conceal his weapon under his tunic.

He nodded and punched the lock, and when the panels slid open, they quickly slipped out.

Bau had been right; the guard was no longer there (he was probably one of the unlucky ones lying still and lifeless up in Hock's bedroom), but one of the female guests snapped her head in their direction and raised her eyebrows when Shepard and Garrus emerged together into the small gallery adjacent to the staircase.

She seemed positively scandalized at the thought of some kind of illicit affair between a human and a turian behind those closed doors. Shepard gave her an insolent smirk and made a show of smoothing down her hair and tugging down her dress, and almost laughed out loud when the woman wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned her head away.

Pleased with the results of her little performance, Shepard walked on with a self-satisfied smile and scanned the room for Jondum Bau.

He was standing close to the stairs that led down to the vault. As soon as he caught her eye, he made a barely perceptible tilt of his head towards the lower level, then he activated the anti-gravity plates in his cart and began sliding it down the stairs.

Shepard didn't need to glance back at Garrus and discuss the situation; she heard him follow right behind as she made her way to the back and descended down the steps.

They slunk into the vault and locked the door behind them. Bau was already in there, removing the special casing from the cart that had been designed to prevent the security scanners from revealing their equipment carefully hidden inside.

"Goto and Krios have disabled the alarms and entered the inner vault," the Spectre said as he tugged out their armor and weapons. "All we need to do now is to catch them red-handed and make the arrest. Still, don't take any chances. Both are extremely dangerous."

Garrus gave him a quick nod. "We know. We've seen their handiwork with our own eyes." He bent down and picked up his gear, walked to a corner, and began stripping off his tuxedo, turning his back to the rest of the room to give his teammates some privacy.

Shepard's heart filled with warmth. After all the time they'd spent together, she wouldn't have batted an eye if she'd had to change her outfit in front of him, but still, it was nice that he cared. She turned around to provide Bau and Garrus with the same courtesy, unzipped her dress and yanked it off, then quickly replaced the clothing with her undersuit before she snapped her armor on. By the time she was all set, her teammates were done as well.

"What are we going to do with all this stuff?" she asked as she hauled her weapons over her shoulder and deposited them in her back harness. When Bau and Garrus turned to face her, she made a wide gesture at the leather dress crumpled in a messy pile on the floor and her shoes laying next to it on their sides.

"Leave them," Bau said. "If you want to keep them, we can pick them up once we have our prisoners."

"Okay." Shepard's gaze darted over to Garrus. His blue eyes glinted back at her with approval and his mandibles flared into an eager smile, and she knew without a doubt that he was thinking about the same thing she was: their date on the Citadel and their agreement about their evening wear. She smiled back, then readied her pistol and tilted her head at the door that lead to the inner sanctum of Donovan Hock's safe.

"All right. Let's get this show on the road."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all the kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks, and especially for the lovely comments! It means a lot to me that you're following and enjoying the story. :)
> 
> I'm sorry that this update has taken even longer than usual. I've been having a lot of stress in RL, and it's been a little hard to sit down and write and be creative. Thanks for sticking with me and for letting me know what you thought of a chapter. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for her help and advice and for beta reading.


	18. Teamwork

The plan, like most efficient ones tended to be, was quite simple: slip into the vault, making as little noise as they possibly could, sneak up on their targets, then disable them before they even knew what was happening. It was a good plan, a solid plan, and should have worked splendidly with any common criminal.

There was one little problem, though: Kasumi Goto and Thane Krios were anything but.

Initially, things actually went quite well. Bau managed to hack into the controls of the door leading to the inner chamber of the vault and shut off the hydraulic system—which, in turn, enabled Shepard and Garrus to manually pry the panels open without the usual hiss and clang of the automated mechanism. They made a gap just wide enough for them to fit through and they pushed in, with Bau in the lead and his two protégés trailing him close behind.

As it turned out, that was about as far as their luck would hold.

The first indication that things weren't exactly going as they had hoped was the unfortunate, though not entirely unexpected, fact that, at least at first glance, there was absolutely no sign of Goto and Krios beyond those doors. Which could only mean one of two things: either the thief and the assassin were somehow already gone (not good) or, they had noticed the door open after all (even worse) and had taken cover before the Spectre and his team had the chance to set foot inside the room.

The place was certainly big enough to disappear in. In fact, it was much larger than they had expected , and was filled with statues and artifacts from all over the galaxy, each and every one of them carefully labeled and arranged in neat rows. It was all very impressive, reminiscent of the most prestigious museums and galleries on many a civilized planet, but, unfortunately, it also provided an ample number of excellent hiding places to take refuge behind.

Determined to continue the mission and bring it to fruition despite this small setback, Bau made a wordless hand gesture, ordering Shepard and Vakarian to look around, before he crouched down and headed off to the left. Shepard took a step in the opposite direction, stooping low as well, but she stopped and turned back when she heard a faint noise from behind her.

The air hummed and rippled softly for a moment, and Shepard watched in helpless frustration as a female figure, clad in a hooded, tight-fitting suit, materialized right beside the Spectre and promptly pressed a gun to his temple.

"Spectre Bau," the woman crooned, her dark eyes glinting with cheerful mirth under her hood, her lips curling into an impish smile. "How nice to see you. I must ask, though: does the Council pay so little that you have to resort to moonlighting as a waiter to make ends meet? I can offer you a better job than that, if that's the case."

Bau slowly straightened up and cast a disapproving look at the human female from the corner of his eye, but otherwise did not react to the fact that, apparently, his guise had been compromised, or that a weapon was being tightly jammed against the side of his head.

"Miss Goto," he said, his voice as calm and confident as ever, "you're under arrest."

Shepard could barely hold back an amused snort at the absurdity of the Spectre's unshakable confidence, a bit misplaced under these circumstances. On the other hand, this was nothing really new; after all, it was just like Bau to ignore the barrel of a cocked and ready gun boring into his skull and claim the upper hand.

Kasumi Goto appeared to find the situation equally comical. Her lips pulled back into a wide smile, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth. "Hmm. I don't think so."

"You may have a gun pressed against my head," Bau retorted with a frown, "which, I might add, just exacerbates your case, so I would really recommend against it, but you have two weapons pointed at you as well. You are clearly outnumbered. You can't escape this time, Miss Goto. It's in your best interest to give up. If you do so, I'll make sure that the charges against you will be reduced."

Kasumi Goto's good-natured smile morphed into a self-assured grin. "Aren't you forgetting someone?"

Shepard had to admit that she'd wondered about the same thing. If the thief was in here, then Thane Krios was, too—she could almost feel the bead of the drell's sniper rifle burning a hole in the middle of her forehead, in fact.

To illustrate her point, Goto gestured at one of the statues on the other side of the room, and Shepard spared a second to cast a quick glance in the indicated direction. It came as no surprise that the assassin's distinct head ridge, as well as the long barrel of his gun, were clearly visible now over the statue's pedestal, where, she was pretty sure, there had been nothing before.

Garrus, quick as he was, immediately spun his rifle around in one smooth motion and set his focus on the drell's position. Shepard, for her part, kept her own pistol aimed squarely at the thief.

As usual, Bau remained utterly unfazed by the turn of events and, after calmly regarding Thane Krios for a moment, slowly slid his eyes back to the thief. "He's under arrest, too."

Shepard bit into the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from laughing out loud, and forced a ferocious scowl on her face as she listened to the Spectre go on and make another attempt to fib his way through the situation.

"We can stand around like this if you want," he said, "but it won't be long before Bekenstein security and Donovan Hock's forces are here to assist with your capture. Mr. Hock has agreed to wait only a few minutes before he sends his guards in, and the time's almost up. After that, I can't guarantee your safety. Even if they don't kill you, once Port Security gets involved, it will take quite a while before you'll be released into my custody. And believe me, you don't want to rot in a jail on Bekenstein. You'll be much better off in a Citadel facility."

The thief let out a husky chuckle. "Donovan Hock cooperating with the police? Now, _that_ I have to see. Maybe when he gets here, you could ask him where he got the credits for a mansion like this and how he came to own all these priceless artifacts in this vault." As hilarious as Kasumi seemed to think this whole situation was, her good cheer didn't last long. The corners of her lips turned down and tightened into a frown, and her smile melted away as she pulled out a small, gray box from a pocket on her hip. "Or, how he got this item off of the dead body of my old partner. Whom he'd had his people murder, by the way." Her fingers gently caressed the box, briefly lighting up its interface with an orange glow, before she slipped it back into its place. Her eyes lost their cheerful sparkle and turned dull with immeasurable pain. "This is all I've come for. It belongs to _me_ —not to that monster."

The Spectre opened his mouth to speak; the voice, however, that suddenly filled the space, came not from his vocal chords, but from the overhead speakers as a holo display lit up at the far end of the room and Donovan Hock's smug face stretched across the enormous screen.

"Kasumi Goto," he droned, sneering out every single syllable with utmost contempt. "I _figured_ it had to be you, infiltrating my home, killing my guards, breaking into my vault. I suspected that drell was your lapdog—and I was right." He leaned forward, piercing the thief with his dark, angry gaze. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you have that graybox. I'm going to take it back; you know that, I know that. Now, the only question is whether you relinquish it voluntarily and die a quick, painless death, or resist and suffer the very, very unpleasant consequences."

Jondum Bau turned around to face the screen, ignoring the gun still pressing into the side of his head, and held up a hand to call the weapons dealer's attention to himself. "There's no need for that. I'm here to take care of the situation and—"

Hock narrowed his eyes at the salarian. "Who the hell are you?"

Kasumi Goto huffed out a small chuckle, but kept her pistol firmly pointed at Bau's head. "My, my, Spectre. Do you lie to every girl you want to take home? Well, so much for Hock's cooperation, I guess."

Bau ignored the thief and kept his gaze on the holo screen. "Jondum Bau, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Miss Goto is under arrest and in my custody. I'm taking her back to the Citadel. I suggest you do not interfere with Spectre business."

Donovan Hock leaned back in his chair with a sneer. "Or what? You think you can just charge in here without my permission and do whatever the hell you want? You think I'll let any of you walk out of here alive? You'll all die like dogs, just like Kasumi's old friend, screaming and—"

Whatever he was going to say, it got stuck in his throat as a rifle shot rang out from the drell's direction and one of the ancient artifacts in the room exploded into thousands of jagged little shards. Hock gasped, a horrified look frozen on his face for a moment before he bellowed out an outraged roar.

"Kill them all!"

His guards must have been waiting for his sign, for the door under the holo screen instantly slid open with a loud hiss, and a rather large group of mercs poured into the vault.

Shepard exchanged a brief, sharp glance with Bau and Garrus before they, along with Kasumi Goto, scattered in different directions and dove behind whatever cover they could find.

All those display cases certainly came in handy now. Shepard dropped down behind one and switched to her submachine gun, then settled the butt of the weapon against her shoulder and rose up on one knee to peer over the top of the glass. With a quick look around, she took a hurried stock of the location of her teammates, as well as that of the thief and the assassin. Bau was crouched behind a low wall to her right, a little further ahead, while Garrus had taken a spot in the back, bracing his elbows on top of an artifact's pedestal and cradling his sniper rifle in his hands. Kasumi Goto… well, Shepard wasn't quite sure where Kasumi Goto was at the moment. With her cloaking ability and lithe sneakiness, she could be anywhere in this place.

As for the drell, he'd moved further back from the door that was still spilling mercs into the room, putting a bit more space between himself and the enemy. He'd taken up position behind a solid metal statue, focusing his sniper rifle on the left side of the troops and picking them off precisely, methodically, one by miserable one.

With the battlefield more or less imprinted in her mind, Shepard turned her attention to the guards and sent a short, controlled burst of fire from her SMG their way.

She hoped that, wherever she was at the moment, cloaked and nearly invisible to the naked eye, Kasumi Goto wasn't stupid enough to get in the way. Ordinarily, the commander wouldn't have spared a moment of concern for a criminal; if they wanted to get killed, that was their prerogative. Somehow, however, she had the distinct feeling that Bau would most definitely _not_ be happy with that kind of a result to their mission. So, she paid as close attention as she could under the circumstances to any sign of shimmering in her line of fire, and only when she saw none did she pull the trigger, again and again.

The guards were spreading out from the door now, spraying bullets as they went and ducking down behind cover as soon as they could find a spot that was, presumably, off Hock's ' _do not destroy under any circumstances_ ' list. It didn't help them much; between Garrus and Krios's precise headshots and Bau and Shepard's volley of bullets, their numbers were rapidly thinning—as was the number of valuable items in Hock's collection.

There were still plenty of mercs left to keep Bau and his ad-hoc team occupied, though, and it was perhaps due to this that, at one point, Thane Krios did not notice the drone sent out by one of the engineers that had been hiding behind a low wall on the other side of the room. Shepard almost missed it, too, until it was right behind the drell, powering up for a close-range attack. She took it out without a second thought, and when the assassin's head whipped around, just in time to see the small explosion, their eyes met for a moment over the smoke and electrical sparks.

He gave her a small nod of thanks and she flashed him a grin, then she turned back to the fight.

The engineer didn't get the chance to send out a replacement; before she could even lift her arm, the air behind her rippled and Kasumi Goto emerged, heavy pistol aimed straight at the woman's head. Shepard didn't have to watch what happened; even over the rattle of gunfire reverberating in the space, she could hear the loud bang.

Bau took out the remaining mercs with a sticky grenade fired from his new, high-tech pistol he'd picked up on Sur'Kesh—one Garrus had been pining for ever since they'd seen it at STG Headquarters. Shepard had to admit that it was a fine piece of weaponry; the projectiles were small but powerful, and they exploded just like proximity mines, causing enough damage to take out a whole group of enemy combatants at once.

They waited while the debris settled and the smoke dissipated, ready for more troops to burst through the doors but, at least for now, no-one came. Slowly, one by one, they rose from their crouched positions and looked around to survey the battlefield. It was a mess; broken glass, metal, and concrete littered the floor, interspersed here and there with dead bodies, drying pools of blood, and spent thermal clips.

Satisfied that Hock's people had been dealt with, Bau stopped his scan of their surroundings and turned his attention back to his real target —the one all this had been about. "Miss Goto," he said, his voice just as calm and matter-of-fact as before, "you know this doesn't change anything. You're still under arrest."

The thief shook her head with a patient smile and pointed at the door they'd all come in through. It was sealed shut now, its security interface glowing a forbidding red. "We'll see about that. But right now, we have other problems. Like getting out of here."

Bau opened his hands in a small shrug. "I don't see the issue. We got in; we can certainly get out."

Thane Krios, silent until now, straightened up from his squatting position and pocketed the ammunition he'd collected off of the floor. He'd already collapsed his sniper rifle and deposited it back in its holster behind his shoulder, but it didn't escape Shepard's attention that, despite his casual posture, his hand hovered surreptitiously close to his sidearm on his hip as he took a step forward and blinked his large, dark eyes at the salarian. "Forcing our way back through that door would be inadvisable."

Shepard's gaze snapped to the drell's lips and throat ridges and, without realizing what she was doing, she tilted her head as she listened to him speak. His voice was dual-toned, somewhat similar to turians' vocalizations, but drier and raspier. It was the first time she'd heard him talk—hell, the first time she'd heard _any_ drell talk—and she had to confess that she found his voice quite strange and fascinating, but not at all unpleasant.

Bau, of course, couldn't have cared less about such frivolous details. He narrowed his eyes at the assassin and gave him a small jerk of his chin. "Explain."

Thane Krios dipped his head in a gracious nod. "I am quite certain that, even if we could eventually break the code on the lock—which has been undoubtedly changed by now—we would meet with heavy resistance beyond that door. Under normal circumstances, that would not matter. Judging by our performance in here, we could easily handle whatever force we'd be facing. However¸ there is a party still taking place in this house, and any fight out there would no doubt result in heavy civilian casualties. I have to say I am not in favor of unnecessary killings, no matter the moral background of the potential victims."

Shepard's eyebrows shot up on her forehead. Well, this was something new—she'd never expected a trained killer, someone who made his living ambushing and executing people, to actually have these kinds of scruples. Maybe there was more to this man than his profession and his impressive sniping skills.

Whether Jondum Bau shared her sentiment or not, he seemed to regard the assassin with curious reservation; Garrus, on the other hand, had picked up on an entirely different part of the drell's speech. He shook his head and let out a caustic snort. "Right. Killing any of those bastards would be _such_ a shame."

Kasumi's eyes, crinkling with amusement under her hood, darted to Garrus. She gave him a smile as she leaned back on one leg and folded her arms across her chest. "Sure, some of those people would _absolutely_ deserve a bullet in their brains but, despite what you think of us, we don't operate that way." She turned her attention back to Bau, and tipped her head towards the far end of the room, throwing a glance at the spot where Hock's security detail had entered through the back door. "I say we take that route. According to my research, it leads to a loading area. We should be able to get out that way."

Bau followed her gaze and pressed his lips into a thin line as he considered her proposal. "We might encounter more resistance that way. But it appears that we have no other choice."

The Spectre turned a questioning look at Shepard and Garrus. When they nodded their consent, he pushed a fresh thermal clip into his SMG and waved a hand at the door. "All right. Let's go."

 

* * *

Having seen the above ground size of Hock's mansion beforehand, it should have come as no surprise that the underground part was equally enormous. And yet, Shepard couldn't help but wonder just when all these rooms and chambers and hallways were going to finally come to an end.

They'd already pushed through what felt like half a city block filled with crates and supplies and armored vehicles (apparently, Hock's mansion also served as his warehouse) and fought through a small army along the way.

Having five impressively capable people on the team made things a bit easier at least. They certainly needed all that firepower. As befitting a high-end weapons dealer tycoon, Hock's security forces were clearly equipped with the best weaponry money could buy, including several LOKIs and YMIR mechs as well.

Still, all those troops were no match for Bau's makeshift squad. It was remarkable, really, how well they all worked together, despite the obvious lack of common training and battle experience.

Outside of the battlefield and notwithstanding the drell's moral guidelines about killing people, Shepard still wouldn't have trusted either the thief or the assassin enough to turn her back on them, but right here, right now, there was a certain, undeniable camaraderie between them. They advanced and took cover and set up chains of attacks as though they'd been fighting like this, together, their whole lives, and watched each other's backs when the enemy nearly overwhelmed them.

In fact, it was Thane Krios who pushed Shepard down behind a heavy crate before a rocket blast could blow her head off, then eliminated a cloaked vanguard, suddenly appearing out of thin air right beside them, with an efficient shot to the throat.

Shepard leaned back against the metal container and swiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand and threw a nod of thanks at the assassin while she took a moment to catch her breath.

The corner of Thane's lips curled up in a small smile, and he gave her a short nod in return before he rolled out of cover and hurled a tangle of biotic energy at a group of advancing troops, throwing them straight across the room and smashing them into the wall. A concentrated volley of weapons fire took out the rest, and when the smoke cleared and the place fell silent, they collected whatever spare ammunition they could find, and made their way to the next door.

That door finally, _finally_ , led them to the outside.

Just as Kasumi had suggested, this place was a docking port and loading area with more shipping containers, a couple of tanks and shuttles, and a landing pad at the far end.

Thankfully, there was no sign of any more mercs out here, but before they could enjoy the sudden peace and quiet, Bau calmly, nonchalantly, raised his pistol again and aimed it at Kasumi Goto.

"Well, Miss Goto, it appears that this is the end of the line. As I stated before, you're under arrest, and I would greatly appreciate it if you cooperated and surrendered without any further incidents."

In less than a second, Thane Krios's rifle was in his hand, ready and pointing at the Spectre; a millisecond later, the barrels of Shepard and Garrus's own weapons swung around from their relaxed positions and focused squarely on the assassin.

Shepard kept a wary eye on the drell, but she had to admit: she was actually disappointed that the time of their forced teamwork seemed to have come to an end.

Kasumi Goto merely smiled. "My dear Spectre, you wound me." She raised her hand and clutched at her chest with the kind of playful theatrics that, with anyone else, would have looked entirely bizarre and out of place. With _her_ , somehow, it only added to her child-like charm. "This, after all we've been through together? There are other ways to win a girl's heart, you know."

Jondum Bau's eyes narrowed and blinked in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"

Whatever Kasumi's reply was going to be, she didn't get to say it. The air suddenly filled with the blaring sound of Donovan Hock's voice projected through the loudspeakers around the perimeter of the loading docks as a gunship rose up into the air and stayed hovering over the cliff at the far end of the open space.

"You think this is over? Think again. I _told_ you I wasn't going to let you walk out of here alive."

The Spectre's third, equally unsuccessful arrest attempt temporarily forgotten, his ad-hoc team back together again now, dispersed and dove behind cover just before a rocket burst forth from the guns on Hock's ship, whizzed through the air, and tore into the wall behind them.

Even over the rumble of the blast, Shepard could clearly hear Garrus's exasperated growl in her earpiece. "I'm getting really tired of this guy."

"Yeah. Me, too." She pulled up her omni-tool's interface and took a scan of Hock's gunship, buzzing around like an annoying wasp up above them. As expected, the vessel had shields _and_ armor. It was going to be a bitch getting those down before they could take that asshole out, especially if he kept ducking in and out of view like he was doing now. "Closing in to attempt overload," Shepard grunted as she heaved herself over the barrier in front of her and darted across open space to take cover behind a tall cargo container, chased by a volley of machine gun fire from Hock's ship and then—from somewhere else.

"On your left!" Kasumi shouted over the racket before she disappeared from view then, a few seconds later, emerged behind a merc and blew his brains out with a close-range shot to the head.

After that, it was utter chaos. Between the relentless blasts from Hock's cannons and the wave after wave of enemy combatants appearing from who knew where, they could barely survive and eliminate the ground troops, let alone make a dent in the gunship's shields. Eventually, however, the mercs stopped coming —perhaps Hock had finally run out of meat shields to throw at them, or they got tired of marching into certain death—and they could finally concentrate their weapons fire on his vessel.

It didn't do much good; as soon as they managed to get his shields partway down, he'd fly away to recharge them, then come back refreshed and ready to blast his damned rockets at them again.

Shepard was going to suggest a focused, timed overload between herself and Garrus; the thief, however, had other plans.

The commander watched in awed shock as Kasumi ran up a ledge and launched herself at Hock's ship. She managed to get a hold of a metal bar on the side of the gunship, hauled herself up, and, with gleeful flair, shorted out the shields before she jumped off, flying through the air and landing like a cat, graceful and deadly, back on the ground.

"Shields are down," Kasumi said, shaking the rest of the team out of their flabbergasted stupor. "This would be a good time to fire at his ship!"

She didn't have to say it twice; a barrage of bullets rattled the air and slammed into the vehicle and, in less than thirty seconds, Hock's gunship finally exploded.

After that, everything fell silent.

Shepard stood up and looked around. Bau had already risen from his location and started to scan the area; Garrus was coming around a group of containers, flashing her a grin as soon as he caught her eye; Thane and Kasumi… were nowhere to be found.

"Where are Goto and Krios?" she asked, although, even before she heard the sound of an engine start up and one of the shuttles take into the air, she already knew the answer.

Bau turned towards the noise and watched helplessly as the shuttle rolled sideways in farewell, then flew off. He shook his head and heaved out a heavy sigh. "It appears my days of chasing Kasumi Goto aren't over after all."

And that was all he said about the affair; he waved his team after him as he headed to the other shuttle and they followed him, disappointed with the turn of events, but enormously happy that this mission was finally over.

 

* * *

It was only once they were back on the _Inandra_ and Bau had declared that they were going back to the Citadel to give their report to the Council that Shepard remembered her dress and her promise to Garrus.

"Dammit," she said as she dropped down in the chair across from him in the small mess after Bau had retreated to his quarters. "We left my dress and your suit at Hock's house. I won't be able to wear that thing on our date now. Sorry."

Garrus parted his mandibles in a smile and reached over the table to pat her hand. "That's all right. It's the company that counts."

Shepard couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face, or the sudden warmth that filled her chest.

Garrus was right. It was definitely the company that mattered—and, despite what she'd thought of him when they'd first met, now she couldn't have been happier to have _his_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, leaving kudos, bookmarking, subscribing; and special thanks to those who take the time to leave a comment. I really appreciate it. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.


	19. Shore Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions, and special thanks to all the wonderful readers who took the time to leave a comment on the last chapter. I really appreciate it! It's always nice to hear your thoughts about a chapter, and I'm grateful to all of you who are still here, reading this story, despite the infrequent updates. Things should get a bit more interesting soon, so I hope you'll stick around. ;)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading and for her helpful advice and encouragement when I get discouraged or am uncertain about some things.

Garrus didn't often ask for things for himself. As long as he had a roof over his head, some food in his belly, and enough strength left in him to raise his rifle to right wrongs and protect the innocent from the scum of the galaxy, he was happy.

Right now, however, he couldn't help imploring every single deity of every single religion he'd ever heard of to _please_ make Bau finish whatever the hell he was doing behind his closed door, finally, _finally_ come out of his quarters, and declare shore leave for at least the next few hours.

After a relatively smooth trip from Bekenstein and a miraculously speedy landing procedure at the docks (Spectre authority definitely had its advantages), Garrus had hoped that everything else was going to go equally well. He'd certainly thought he would be off the ship by now, making arrangements for his dinner date with Shepard, and if there was enough time, he might even swing by his apartment for a few minutes to pick up something suitable to wear for the occasion.

If only things had been that easy. Soon after their arrival at the Citadel, Bau had locked himself in his room, murmuring something about needing to settle some business before he could finalize their upcoming schedule, and hadn't emerged from his quarters since then. He'd been cooped up in there for more than an hour now, and the more time had passed, the more agitated Garrus had become.

So, now, here he was, sitting in the small mess of the _Inandra,_ checking the time on his omni-tool every few minutes, wondering if he'd already missed his chance and it was too late by now to get a reservation at the restaurant he had in mind for the date. The place had become quite popular recently, and it would be just his luck to not be able to get a table at this hour anymore.

He heaved out a distressed sigh and glanced over at Shepard, sitting in her favorite chair across the table, to see how _she_ was holding up.

As selfish as it was, he had to confess that he was quite comforted to find that she didn't seem to be doing any better than him. In fact, if the annoyed frown on her face and her loud finger-thrumming on the tabletop were anything to go by, she was just as anxious to hear from the Spectre as he was. He wished she wasn't doing that thing with her fingers, though. His nerves were stretched thin enough as it was, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was to lash out at her in his frustration—and ruin their evening before their date had even had a chance to start.

So, instead, he tilted his head and gave her a _look_ , and hoped that she was going to understand the wordless gesture.

Whether she caught the meaning behind his pointed stare or not, the corner of Shepard's lips quirked up into a nervous smirk, and she stilled her fingers as she jerked her head at the Spectre's door. "You think we'll ever get out of here?"

"I sure hope so," Garrus grumbled, grateful for the reprieve from the noise she'd been making.

Unfortunately, the quiet didn't last long. Her hand started twitching soon enough, and in a moment, the table's surface became her instrument of torment again.

Garrus let out a groan and rose from his chair. Perhaps if he paced a little, he could drown out the racket and calm his nerves as well.

He took a couple of laps around the small island in the kitchen, and was about to check his omni-tool again when Bau's door finally slid open.

"I have good news, and I have bad news," the salarian said, waving a datapad in the air as he walked out of his room. He strolled over to the kitchen counter and leaned his lower back against the metal surface. "The good news is, the Council can see us tomorrow afternoon. We'll give them our report, and we might get our new assignment then. The bad news is, we won't be able to leave the station for at least forty-eight hours. I've just been informed that the new armor plating that I ordered a few months ago for the _Inandra_ has finally come in, but it will take the engineering crew at least two full days to install the upgrade onto the hull. The work will be done in one of the maintenance docks, starting in a few hours. I'm sorry to say that that means we'll have to vacate the ship this evening." He took a deep breath and blew it out in a sigh. "We'll have to take a longer shore leave than I originally thought. Also, you'll have to find someplace else to stay at during this time."

Garrus tried not to smile too much, but his heart inside his chest was, in fact, doing a joyous victory dance in celebration at the turn of events. "I have an apartment," he blurted out, and before he could think about what he was doing, he added, too happy to control his mouth, "Shepard is welcome to stay at my place, if she wants."

He glanced at his teammate with a triumphant grin, but his stomach clenched and his mandibles snapped tightly to his face when he caught what appeared to be an utterly shocked look in her eyes. Now, his chest suddenly felt cold and empty. Spirits damn him and his big mouth; he'd probably just committed some terrible, horrible cultural faux pas with his suggestion. Well, so much for not screwing things up this evening.

He shifted his gaze down to his boots, waiting for Shepard to say something, but the person who first spoke was the Spectre instead.

"That's an excellent idea!" Bau gushed, pushing away from the counter with a delighted gleam in his eyes. "That way, both of you can be reached easily, and at the same time. I like it!" He gave them an enthusiastic nod before he headed back to his room, waving the datapad in his hand. "I'll see you at the Council chambers at fourteen-hundred hours in the next day cycle. Until then, pack your bags, leave the ship, and take a rest."

As soon as the salarian had disappeared behind his closed door, Garrus cleared his throat and flicked his sheepish gaze back to his human teammate. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed… I didn't mean… I just thought… I'm not trying to push you into anything, you know. I'll take the couch, so you don't have to worry about that."

Shepard laid a hand on his arm and gave him a smile. "Garrus, it's fine. I just didn't expect that. But I… appreciate the offer. It will be nice not having to sit alone in a hotel room."

Garrus huffed out a relieved breath and returned her smile with a flared mandible. "Oh, good. Let's go pack up and get out of here, then."

He took a few steps towards the crew quarters, but stopped and raised his arm to open up his omni-tool when he remembered the restaurant. "Ah, I almost forgot. I have to make a reservation first."

 

* * *

Getting a reservation at The Hive had proved to be just as difficult as he had feared, but Garrus eventually managed to snag a table—though for a much later hour than he would have liked.

On the positive side, however, at least it gave him and Shepard some time to stop by a store on their way to his apartment and stock up on some levo and dextro groceries. He had never been a fan of shopping, preferring to get in, grab whatever he needed, then get out as quickly as he could, but this time, he actually had fun. They joked about each other's choices of nourishment and he, forgetting all about his earlier resolution not to antagonize his date, teased Shepard relentlessly about the amount of food she bought. Thankfully, she just laughed it off and shoved her bags into his arms as revenge.

They arrived at his apartment in a good mood, loaded up with their equipment and their purchases from the store, but when it came to opening his door, he stopped, his hand hovering over the lock, and turned to the woman behind him with an embarrassed look on his face.

"I, uh, didn't have time to clean up before I headed out the last time I was here," he said, remembering the mess he'd left behind the morning he'd started his Spectre training. "I hadn't heard the alarm and overslept, so I was in a bit of a rush."

Shepard shrugged a shoulder. "So, you left a few socks on the floor. I'll live." When he still hesitated, she leaned back on one hip with exaggerated impatience and crinkled her forehead into a frown. "Come on, Garrus, these bags are heavy."

"Fine. Just don't say I didn't warn you." He punched in his code and the door slid open, and he waved his teammate into the place he'd called home for the last few years.

Shepard made a beeline to the kitchen area and dropped her grocery bags on the counter, then slipped the strap of her duffel bag off her shoulder and took a look around while she lowered her gear onto the floor. "You call this a mess?" she said with a snort, raising an eyebrow. "You should have seen my room when I was a kid. Or every hotel room I've ever stayed in before shipping out."

Garrus tilted his head in slight bewilderment as he considered her confession. He'd been brought up to be tidy and neat, and the requirement to keep things in order had only been reinforced during his years in the army. Seeing the pair of pants he'd decided at the last minute to leave out of his bag, hanging limp now over the armrest of the couch where he'd flung them before he'd dashed out to the skycab port, not to mention his unwashed breakfast bowl and mug in the sink and the pile of datapads scattered haphazardly on the coffee table, made his fingers itch. How come being in a room in such disarray didn't bother her?

"Don't they teach you to be orderly in the Alliance?" he asked as he walked around, picking up his pants and rearranging the datapads.

"Sure they do," Shepard said. She made a questioning gesture at the refrigerator, and when he nodded his head in approval, she proceeded to pull her food out of the grocery bags and stuff it into the fridge. "When I'm on a ship or in camp, my quarters are immaculate. When I'm on shore leave, however… well, that's an entirely different matter."

Garrus stopped where he was and let out a groan. "I hope you're not planning on making a mess at my place."

Shepard laughed and shoved the last bit of her supplies into the fridge. "I'll try to behave." She picked up her duffel bag and turned a questioning gaze to Garrus. "Where can I change? I'm not going to wear my armor to the restaurant."

"First door on the right," Garrus said, gesturing at the small corridor leading to his bathroom. "I'll go get changed, too. We should probably leave soon, anyway."

 

* * *

Even without that form-fitting dress she'd had to leave on Noveria, Garrus thought that Shepard looked mighty fine in her deep blue slacks and soft purplish top. Her shirt hugged her body quite nicely, bringing out the curve of her waist and the jut of her hipbones, and, as unbelievable as it was, he had to admit that, though he was still not into humans in general, there was nobody, absolutely nobody, that he'd ever found more fascinating, more alluring, than his human teammate. If she'd asked him _now_ to give up the sniper rifle mod he'd been so happy to find at Rodam Expeditions the day they'd first met, he would gladly do so—and free of charge, to boot.

He could only hope that she found him just as appealing. He didn't have a lot of fancy clothes—well, actually, none—but she had seemed to like the outfit he'd worn at the party on Bekenstein, so he'd tried to choose something at least vaguely similar from his wardrobe. He happened to have a black and white set he'd only worn once before, a gift from his sister that he'd always found a bit too boring. Though the colors were not quite right, the cut was close enough, so he'd slipped the pants and tunic on in his bedroom and hoped for the best. Shepard did smile and gave him an appreciative once-over when he emerged from his room and joined her in the living area, so hopefully that meant that she approved.

He felt quite good about their evening as they walked through the door of the restaurant. The place was packed, just as he'd predicted, and their reserved table was still occupied by a turian-asari couple lingering over desert, but they were offered two seats at the bar while they waited—so, all in all, things were going quite well.

They ordered some drinks and toasted Spectre training. The brandy burned pleasantly on Garrus's tongue and slid down in a scorching fire into his stomach, giving him the small buzz he needed to say something about Shepard's looks, and he leaned closer, letting his subharmonics purr with every word as he rumbled, "I really like your, uh, hair. And your waist is… _very_ nice."

Shepard's lips curled into a grin, and she seemed like she was going to say something—hopefully something about the length of his fringe and the arch of his own waist. She opened her mouth, but her features froze into a frown just as a large, three-fingered hand grabbed Garrus's shoulder from behind, and a cursed, familiar voice laughed into his ear canal.

"Vakarian! What're you doing here? Done playing Spectre already? Thought you were off the station. Didn't expect to find you in this bar, crooning to a _human_ , of all things."

Garrus whipped his head around to glare at the owner of that annoying voice. "Chellick," he snarled, putting as much warning into his subvocals as he could without making a scene and risking being asked to leave by the staff.

Chellick ignored Garrus's growl and tugged on his arm to pull him off his chair. "Come on, say hi to Jenna. Bring your _date_ , too." Without waiting for an answer, he walked off towards the other end of the bar, leaving Garrus and Shepard to stare after him.

"Who was that?" Shepard asked as she slipped off her chair.

"A colleague from C-Sec," Garrus ground out through clenched teeth. "And an obnoxious asshole. Also, my soon-to-be ex friend."

Shepard's brows pulled into a frown and she waved a hand between the two of them. "Is this going to be a problem?"

"Yes." Garrus sighed. "But not in the way you think."

He gestured for her to follow him, and they headed down along the counter to catch up with his friend.

"Ah, here they are!" Chellick yelled over the music pumping out of the speakers in this part of the bar. He raised a half-empty glass as they approached, flaring his mandibles into an annoying grin. "Vakarian and his new, _human_ girlfriend. Guess he doesn't find them plain ugly anymore."

Jenna, sitting next to him, shoved an elbow into his side to silence him, but Chellick just grinned that much harder.

"Hi there," the young woman said, smiling pleasantly. "Don't listen to him. He's just bitter about all the times Garrus teased him about our relationship. I'm Jenna. Chellick's girlfriend."

"This is _Commander_ Shepard," Garrus murmured, waving a hand at his teammate. "We're in Spectre training together. And that moron over there is Chellick."

Shepard leaned her hip against the bar and gave Chellick and Jenna a curt nod, but didn't say anything. Garrus knew exactly what she was doing, though. She was scrutinizing her perceived opponent, evaluating his stance, his state of mind, his possible intentions, waiting for him to make his next move before she would respond in kind.

Chellick, of course, did not disappoint. "So," he started with a drawl, "has Garrus explained to you yet how squishy and weak and unattractive he thinks your species is?"

If Chellick had expected Shepard to fly into a fit of rage and storm out of the restaurant, he had to be sorely disappointed. She didn't bat an eye; in fact, she simply shrugged a shoulder. "Not in so many words, but basically, yeah."

"I've changed my mind," Garrus said, folding his arms across his chest and reclining his back against the counter as he glowered at the other turian. "At least, about some of them. Present company included." Innocuously, he leaned a bit closer to Shepard to press his arm against hers, and he was happy to find that she pressed back without hesitation. That small touch was enough to stamp out the flames of irritation in his chest, and he went on, his subharmonics evening out into a more mellow tone. "Sorry about all that teasing. It was, uh, ignorant of me."

Shepard gave him a nod of acknowledgement, but she kept her gaze on Chellick. Her lips pulled back into a frosty smile that looked more like a sneer as she stared him down. "I bet you didn't start out loving humans in general either, am I right?"

Garrus huffed out a laugh. "Yes, tell Jenna what you thought of her before the two of you became an item."

Jenna's eyes snapped sharply to her boyfriend. "Oh? Please, do tell."

"Uh, you know," Chellick muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

"No, I don't. So, why don't you enlighten me?"

Garrus would have loved to have heard the rest of _that_ conversation, but an attendant tapped on his shoulder, informing him that their table was ready, and they excused themselves, leaving the now arguing couple behind.

 

* * *

"Nice job with Chellick back there," Garrus said as soon as the waiter had withdrawn from their table, leaving some menus for them to peruse while he got their drinks.

Shepard looked up from the list of dextro dishes that she'd already started studying. "Well, it's not like you hadn't mentioned a hundred times before that you weren't into humans. Though," she added, giving him a dramatic sigh and a lopsided smirk, "the _squishy and weak_ part really, really hurt."

Garrus's mandibles relaxed into a grin. He was glad she was taking Chellick's revelations so well. "That was before we met. A lot of things have changed since then. For starters, you stopped being annoying."

She gave him a playful kick under the table, but she laughed nonetheless. "You're one to talk. You were much more annoying than I ever was."

"And now? Do you still find me annoying?"

Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink and she suddenly seemed to have an intense need to study the menu again, but she did answer his question, though without raising her gaze to look into his eyes. "No. Not anymore."

Garrus's chest filled with warmth and he reached across the table to give her hand a small squeeze. "I'm glad we ended up together in this training thing."

She finally looked up at him and smiled. "Yeah. Me, too."

Garrus released her hand and picked up the menu. "I, uh, hope the levo food is as good as the dextro ones. If not, we can always go somewhere else."

Shepard shook her head and buried her nose in the list again. "I'm sure they're fine. There wouldn't be so many humans and asari here otherwise."

Picking something from the extensive selection was not easy, but by the time the waiter came back with their drinks, they'd managed to make their choices. The salarian took their order and left with a small bow, promising speedy and satisfactory service.

"So," Shepard said when they were alone again, running a finger along the rim of her wine glass, "did you always want to be a Spectre?

Garrus leaned back in his chair as he thought about his childhood. "No, not really. My father always despised that whole institution, so I grew up with the notion that Spectres were nothing more than licensed thugs. He hates the fact that there's basically no oversight and no accountability when it comes to their actions. I didn't realize how much they were needed, though, until I started to work for C-Sec and saw all the red tape that prevented criminals from being brought to justice."

"Hmm. I take it your father does not approve of your candidacy, then?"

Garrus let out a bitter laugh. "You can say that again. I actually haven't spoken to him since I was approved for the training."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not exactly a bowl of fun to chat with him anyway." His mandibles flared into a smile and he gave her a small nudge of his chin. "How about you?"

Shepard shook her head with a small chuckle. "I'd never even heard of Spectres until a few years ago. Becoming the Council's special agent is not exactly a career path little girls dream of on far-away colonies."

"What did you dream of?"

"I wanted to be an engineer, like my father and mother. I thought I'd be fixing the farm equipment when I grew up. Maybe invent a few new machines."

Her gaze drifted off into a distance that was probably both physical and temporal, but whatever cloud had settled over her heart for a moment, it seemed to dissipate into thin air when she looked back at him. "This whole Spectre business wasn't even my idea," she went on, giving him a smile. "Udina has been pushing for it, and the Council finally relented. I don't think it was _me_ he'd had in mind for the job, though."

She barked out a laugh, and Garrus couldn't help laughing along with her, though the thought that it could have been somebody else he might have ended up in training with chilled his heart into a block of ice. "Well, I'm glad they chose _you_ ," he said.

Shepard's eyes shone warmly as she gave him a small nod. "Yeah. I wasn't too happy about it in the beginning, but now I'm glad, too."

 

* * *

Dinner was fantastic. Garrus's steak was perfect, and whatever food Shepard had ordered, it must have been quite tasty, because she ate every last morsel of it. They drank a few glasses of wine along with the meal, and they each indulged in a bowl of creamy dessert—one dextro, one levo—at the end.

"I'm stuffed," Shepard groaned as they stood up from the table after they'd paid and headed to the exit. "Thank you for this. I really enjoyed it."

"You're welcome. I enjoyed it, too."

Her fingers brushed his as they strolled through the door, their stomachs full and their heads buzzing pleasantly with the drinks they'd consumed, and somehow, by the time they'd arrived at the skycab port, he was holding her hand, and she was close, so close, and he could smell her intoxicating scent, and he couldn't remember a time in his entire life when he'd been happier than in that moment.

They climbed into a car and Garrus started up the engine, but before he'd input their destination, he turned to Shepard with a contented grin. "Home?" he asked, his fingers hovering above the control panel.

"Yes. Home," she said. She leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Garrus punched in his address, and the car lifted into the air. It wasn't until they were almost at his apartment building that something occurred to him.

Out of all his dates he'd taken home, this woman, _this human woman_ , was the only one he actually wanted to stay for more than just one night.


	20. Extracurricular Activities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and for reading, bookmarking, and subscribing to this story, and most of all, big, big thanks for the comments on the last chapter. I'm always happy to hear from you! :)
> 
> Great big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.
> 
> This is the point from which this story earns its E rating. So, a warning: This chapter contains adult content. ;)

The last time Shepard had thought of a place as _home_ had been... well, when she'd still _had_ a home.

After Mindoir, every lodging she'd ever stayed at felt strange, temporary, and unequivocally not _hers_ —the children's shelter, the military barracks, the ships she'd served on. It was heartbreaking and lonely at first, but she'd learned to adapt, and after a while the concept of 'home' began to twist and change and morph, and eventually came to mean not a physical location, but the company and companionship of her friends and comrades-in-arms.

Now, after all these years, she had an admirable ability to make herself comfortable wherever she was, especially if there happened to be a friend or two around. She certainly felt at ease as she and Garrus walked through the door of his apartment after their date, holding hands and laughing about the slack-jawed, shocked expression on the face of the building manager they'd passed on their way to the elevator.

His place was small but tidy, equipped with the kind of fixtures you could see virtually anywhere on the Citadel, though it did have enough turian style furnishings and decorations to remind her that this was not exactly the kind of dwelling she was used to staying at. Still, it was familiar enough to make her feel cozy and relaxed, and as soon as they'd reached the couch, she released Garrus's hand and plopped down, kicked off her shoes, and put her feet up on the low table in front of her, exhaling a long, contented sigh.

Garrus raised his brow plates and gave her shoes a pointed glare, and she laughed, throwing her head back to rest it on top of the couch. "Sorry. I'll pick them up soon. I just need a few minutes before I can gather up whatever's left of my strength and get ready for bed. It's been a long day."

He nodded, flaring his mandibles in a smile, and walked over to the fridge. "You want something to drink?"

She turned her head to look at him, which took considerable effort, given the sudden wave of exhaustion that had swept over her body as soon as her bottom had found the seat cushion. "Nah. I think I've had enough. What I need right now is a hot shower. Is it okay if I—"

Garrus waved a hand at the bathroom down the hallway. "Of course. Make yourself comfortable. I'll get things ready while you do that."

"Thanks."

She took a deep inhale, and pulled herself up with a tired moan. Her duffel bag was still on the floor, right next to the armchair where she'd left it before they'd taken off for the restaurant, and she lumbered over to it, dragging her feet along the thin carpet. All she needed was her toiletry bag and her night clothes, so she plucked those out of her bag, and headed to the bathroom. She was almost there when she remembered that she was going to need something to dry herself off with as well.

"Hey, Garrus?"

"Yeah?"

"You have some towels I can use?"

Garrus poked his head out of the closet he'd been rummaging through to look at her. "Uh, sure. Here." He grabbed two thick towels, walked over to where she was standing, and handed them over. "Not sure if you want to use my soap, though. It's made for turians, so it might be a bit too rough for that frail skin of yours."

He gave her a grin, and she smacked him with the towels he'd just relinquished to her. "I don't need your sandpaper-soap. I have my own."

Garrus laughed. "You have your own sandpaper-soap?"

"You know what I meant. Ass." She turned around, feigning annoyance, but couldn't quite hold back an amused snort as she marched through the bathroom door.

Being here with him definitely felt nice.

 

* * *

The hot water—and her own soap—had done wonders, and by the time Shepard emerged from the bathroom, clad only in her shorts and tank top, there was no sign of her exhaustion anymore. She walked out into the living room, ready to discuss the sleeping arrangements, but came to a sudden stop when she found Garrus on the couch. He was sitting barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only a pair of thin pants, carefully fluffing up a pillow that looked thicker and softer than any bedding accessory she'd ever seen.

Shepard's brows crinkled into a frown. "What are you doing?"

"Preparing the couch for sleeping. I already made the bed for you in the bedroom. I hope it will be all right." He got up, inclining his head at the end of the hallway. "Come on, I'll show you."

He took a few steps, but turned around when he realized that she wasn't following him. "Something wrong?"

Shepard pursed her lips and looked him up and down, then flicked her gaze to the couch. She hadn't paid close enough attention before, but now she couldn't help noticing that the sizes just didn't match up. "I don't think that couch is big enough for you to sleep on," she said. "You're too tall for it; you couldn't even stretch your legs out. It seems to be the right size for me, though."

Garrus folded his arms in front of his plated chest and stared her down. "Oh, no. I'm not going to sleep in a comfortable bed while you camp out here on this old thing. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's pretty damn hard."

Shepard chucked her bathroom supplies and her dirty clothes into her bag, then cocked her hip and crossed her arms in a perfect mirror of Garrus's stance. "I'm a soldier. I've slept on the ground more times than I can count. I can certainly take a hard couch."

Garrus didn't seem to be impressed. "You're my guest. I'm _not_ going to let you sleep on this thing." He flicked out a mandible in a smirk and tilted his head, peering at her with a teasing glint in his blue eyes. "Besides, I don't want to have to listen to you complaining tomorrow morning about the bruises you got all over your squishy body."

Shepard huffed out an annoyed puff of air. "And _I_ don't want to carry you on my back to the Council meeting tomorrow because you can't walk from the damned cramps in your legs."

He gave her a mock glare. She glared back, and they stood unmoving for a few long moments, brows scowling, until Garrus dropped his arms with a sigh. "What do you want to do, then? We can't both sleep on it. At least, not at the same time."

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck. Maybe she was going to regret this, and Garrus was certainly going to have a field day with her suggestion, but dammit, she was exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep already. "How about your bed? Big enough for both of us?"

Garrus blinked in surprise. "What?"

Shepard shrugged and waved a hand. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty tired. If you're not willing to let me sleep on the couch, and I'm sure as hell not letting you either, then the only other solution I can see is to share your bed. _For sleeping,_ " she rushed to add before he could make a joke of it, putting special emphasis on those two words.

Garrus cleared his throat and looked away for a moment before he turned his gaze back to her and gave her a nod. "All right. It's going to be a bit tight, but I think we can manage."

He seemed to hesitate for a second before he picked up his pillow and headed to his bedroom, jerking his head towards his door in silent invitation.

Shepard followed him gratefully. It wasn't until they'd actually entered his bedroom that she realized that he hadn't teased her about her proposal.

 

* * *

It was a little strange, after sleeping in the same room—though in different bunks—for so long with Garrus, to actually share a bed with him now.

The mattress was nice and soft, the kind that accommodated any shape by molding itself around it, and, although it wasn't luxuriously large, it did offer enough space for both of them. It was comfortable, and it should have made Shepard drift off as soon as her head had made contact with the pillow but, despite her earlier declarations of fatigue, she found that she was unable to fall asleep. How could she, when Garrus was _there_ , right behind her? He hadn't said a word since they'd climbed into bed and she'd turned on her side, facing away from him, but with his scent drifting into her nostrils and his body radiating heat like a cozy fireplace on a frosty night, it was just about impossible to forget that he was only a few inches away.

She wondered how _he_ was taking this whole "sharing a bed" thing. He was quiet and motionless, which could have meant that he was just lying there like she was, staring into the darkness; or, perhaps, he was so exhausted that he'd dozed off right away. In which case, lucky him.

Slowly, carefully, she turned around to take a look, trying not to rouse him if he had, indeed, fallen asleep. The room was dark, with only a far-away neon sign's dim glow filtering in from the outside, but that little bit of illumination was enough to light up Garrus's face. He was awake. He was awake and _watching her_ , and that thought alone was enough to spread a shock of heat from Shepard's chest down to her belly, and down, down, down, all the way to her groin.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged with electricity as his unwavering gaze bore into her eyes, and she swallowed, trying desperately to find something to say so she could drown out that naughty little voice that kept chanting _touch him, touch him, touch him_ inside her head.

She almost choked out a relieved sob when he finally spoke. "Hey. Can't sleep?"

She shook her head and smiled. "No. You neither?" Not waiting for an answer, her lips curled up, her smile morphing into a cheeky grin, and she went on, blurting out the lame little line her brain insisted was the proper way to dispel the awkward tension in the air. "Still afraid I'll make a move on you?"

Garrus gave her a long, inscrutable look. "I, uh, wouldn't mind. Was sort of hoping you would." His mandibles twitched and he barked out a small, nervous chuckle, but Shepard didn't laugh. She stared at him wide-eyed, slack-jawed, fairly certain _that_ was _not_ a joke. His expression sobered and he went on, but she could barely hear the words over her blood suddenly rushing in her ears. "And you?" he said, his voice husky and deep and uncertain. "Would you mind if I… touched you?"

She had to swallow and flick out her tongue to wet her lips before she could talk, but she managed to squeeze out an answer, even if it was barely more than a hushed whisper. "No."

Garrus exhaled a deep breath and lifted a tentative hand, and ran the velvety pad of a finger across Shepard's cheek and down along her jaw. "Your skin is so… soft," he said, his subvocals rumbling with a quiet purr that did wonderful things to her insides. "So smooth. I know I've teased you a lot about it, but I really, really… like it." He added another finger as his hand slid down her neck to her clavicle, and he glided a careful talon along the dip just above it. "I like this, too."

"Ungh," Shepard croaked in reply.

All right, so that wasn't exactly the most articulate thing she'd ever said, but it was a miracle she could get that much out, considering the lump in her throat and the thunderous shivers his gentle caress had sent down her spine. Besides, who needed words when there were other, more exciting ways to show your appreciation and interest?

And oh, boy, was she interested. She'd been interested for quite a while—certainly since the night they'd spent together in the lab on Noveria. Maybe even before that.

She willed her hand not to shake and reached out to cup his face, brushing her thumb over the ridges on his nose and the plating under his eye. His skin was warm, really warm, which was no surprise, given the incredible heat she'd felt rolling off of him earlier. What _was_ surprising, though, was how much give his skin actually had. Sure, it was solid, and slightly metallic, but it was somewhat pliant as well—much more so than she'd remembered from when she'd explored his features before. Of course, she'd been wearing a pair of thick gloves at the time; now, there was no barrier between her naked fingers and his plates, and she could feel every twitch, every subtle movement as she stroked and caressed his face.

She came to another interesting discovery as her fingers gently traced the tips of his mandibles. Apparently, this part of his facial structure was _very_ sensitive. Garrus closed his eyes and let out a thrumming hum as she stroked those tips, and Shepard smiled, repeating the gesture again and again.

Satisfied with her success so far, she filed away the information, already planning to return to that spot later, and continued her explorations by drawing her fingers along a lazy path down his throat, then around to the back of his neck. The skin here was smoother, with just a few hardened bumps here and there, and, if his deepening purr and his almost painful grip on her shoulder were anything to go by, it was quite responsive, too.

In fact, she found out just how responsive Garrus's hide really was when she moved her hand to his front again and ran her hand down his carapace. As soon as she dug her fingertips into the valleys in between his tougher plates, his eyes popped open and he let out a deep growl; the next moment, he scooted closer, brushing his forehead against hers.

"Can we do that… kissing thing again?" he asked as he stroked her bare shoulder, her arms, her back, then dragged his hand up to her shoulder again.

Shepard was only too happy to oblige; she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his mouth plates, and flicked out her tongue to trace his tough skin there. He must have remembered their earlier lesson, because he reciprocated without delay and with amazing skill, which was nothing short of impressive, considering the fact that they'd only done this once before. Their tongues met and slid against each other, and she couldn't hold back a breathy moan when Garrus deepened the kiss and pulled her to him, close enough that she could feel the vibrations of his rumbling purr inside her own chest.

It felt dangerous and exciting and forbidden, kissing her alien teammate, and the logistics didn't quite work the same way as they would with a human (turians' lips weren't exactly designed for this, after all), but Shepard still melted in his arms, giving herself over to the sensations of his tongue in her mouth and his talons in her hair.

She offered no resistance when he gently pushed her onto her back and pressed her into the mattress, raising himself up on one elbow and curling above her body to nip at her shoulder and lick at the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. His tongue left a wet path as he traced a line along her collar bone, painting delicate goose bumps over her skin and sending waves of shudders down her spine, and she trailed a hand up his arm and his shoulder to the back of his neck in return.

His hips surged forward and he groaned, his hot breath fanning over her throat, and he slid his own hand down her side and settled it on her waist. Hesitantly, he stroked the dip there, drawing intricate patterns over her curves, before he increased the pressure, lightly squeezing and clenching her flesh through her shirt.

Shepard did her best to stop herself from squirming, and bit into her lower lip as she let him explore her body. His obsession with her waist was a little strange but, in a way, also sort of adorable, and, as surprising as it was, it actually started to build up that familiar heat between her legs. Regardless, she wished he hadn't bypassed her other, more sensitive spots on the way. For a moment, she contemplated grabbing his hand and moving it back up to her chest, but before she could do as much as blink an eye, he grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it up to her neck, exposing her naked skin underneath.

Shepard sucked in a breath as the cool air hit her heated pores, and arched her back with a whimper when he bent his head down and licked a path from her stomach up to her breast. Her muscles clenched in her lower belly as he cupped the mound and brushed a talon over her hardened nipple, then curled his tongue around the stiff little peak.

Damn, he was good at this. For a fleeting moment, she wondered where he'd learnt to push her buttons so effectively, but then he swirled his tongue around her other side, and every rational thought she might have had escaped with the loud gasp that erupted from her throat.

Garrus stopped what he was doing and lifted his head to look at her. "Are you all right?"

She blushed, and wiped a lock of hair away from her sweaty brow. "Yeah. Fine. More than fine. You sure you haven't done this before?"

His mandibles flared in a happy smile. "I... might have done some research. You know... just in case we did more than just flirt one day."

She hoisted herself up on her elbows and stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "You watched human porn?"

"Of course not!" Garrus tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with delight. "I watched _human-turian_ porn." When she huffed out a startled laugh, he laughed along with her, then leaned down and nuzzled the underside of her breast. "Just kidding. But I did read up on, ah, human sexuality." His mandibles twitched and fluttered against her skin, which drew out a soft whine from her, and he added, his voice rumbling with well-deserved satisfaction, "I'm glad it has paid off."

Shepard flopped back down onto the pillow with a barely suppressed moan. "You and me both."

Wasting no time, Garrus picked up where he'd left off, and Shepard closed her eyes as he lavished an absolutely wonderful amount of attention on her breasts, massaging and laving and nipping at her skin. She reciprocated with gentle caresses down his arms, his neck, his back, scratching her blunt fingernails across the sensitive hide between his plates.

By the time he trailed a hand downwards, skimming along her waist and hip and thigh, every cell in her body was on fire, and when his fingers slowly came around and up along her inner thigh to finally, finally, stroke along the seam between her legs, she was already wound up so tight that she could barely remember how to breathe.

She never would have thought that one day she would be throbbing with so much need for someone outside her own species, but right now, all she could think about was how much she wanted him, all of him, hard plates and all. It made her enormously happy that, apparently, he wanted her, too—she wasn't quite ready to admit it to him yet, but she _might have_ checked out a turian spread in Fornax once, and she was fairly certain that stiff bulge she could feel poking into her leg now was exactly what she thought it was, and he was just as aroused and ready as she.

Still, it couldn't hurt to investigate—and to encourage things along as well—so she slowly slid a hand down between them until she came to that stiff mound and ran her fingers over it.

Garrus hissed out a heated breath and buried his face in the crook of her neck as she touched him, stroking his length once, twice, three times, before she wrapped her fingers around him.

He groaned and nipped at her shoulder, and whispered something in her ear that she could barely understand.

"What?" she asked, her throat dry and raspy, her groin on fire as he dragged his hand up to the band of her shorts and hooked a finger in it.

"Shepard," he rumbled, and damn if the vibrations in his voice didn't stoke her desire even more, "do you want to?"

For a split second, she was tempted to play the fool and make him finish that sentence, but she was too wound up for silly games now. She gave him a squeeze instead, smiling with glee at his growling reaction, and crooned, trying to make her voice as sexy and seductive as she could manage, "You have no idea."

He chuckled and went to work, pulling her shorts off. She helped him by lifting her hips and kicking the garment off, then, when he turned away to get rid of his own pants, she finished the job of removing her tank top and threw it off the bed.

Her skin had never felt this sensitive, this receptive to every single sensation as she lay back down on the cool sheets, waiting for him to return, and she opened her body, her soul, her everything without hesitation when he curled over her and settled down between her legs.

He lowered his head and kissed her, and ran a hand down her throat, her chest, her stomach, all the way to the apex between her thighs, and stroked her gently a few times, dipping inside with a careful knuckle, before he took his length and brushed the tip against her folds.

Her stomach fluttered and her breath hitched, and she clung to him as he slowly pushed in. He was a good size, shaped a bit differently than human men, but the fit was close enough, and after the initial gasp and moan she relaxed her arms and rolled her hips in wordless encouragement.

Garrus nuzzled her neck as he withdrew and pushed in again, and again and again in a steady, gentle rhythm, and she raked her fingernails down his carapace as she met his every move and rocked her hips against him.

Perhaps it was his slightly curved shape, or perhaps it was the angle, but he managed to hit that special spot on nearly every thrust, and it didn't take long before she started to feel that delicious, indescribable tension coiling tight in her lower belly.

Unfortunately, there was something else she began to feel as well: as pliable as Garrus's plates were, they were still rougher than human skin, and as her thighs began to burn with little pinpricks of pain, she suddenly remembered Mordin's warning about possible chafing in a human-turian relationship.

Oh, well. She'd been through worse; a little discomfort wasn't going to ruin this—not when Garrus's every thrust, every move, lit her nerves on fire and spread amazing, breathtaking, tingling tendrils of pleasure from her groin to the tips of her toes.

A small change in position wouldn't hurt, though, so she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his slim waist, hooking her ankles behind his back. Oh, yes, this was much better—in fact, it was downright wonderful. The new angle made them groan in unison, and Garrus picked up the pace, pounding into her in earnest now, drawing strangled gasps and low, keening whimpers from her at the feel of his shaft, his plates, the little ridge at his base sliding and brushing and rubbing against her in all the right places.

Unconsciously, her thighs quivered and tightened around his waist, which he answered with a deep, rumbling growl, and he bent his head down, careful to keep most of his weight off of her, and claimed her mouth in a desperate kiss. She dug her fingers into his hide on the back of his neck as their tongues wrestled with each other, then, once they came up for air, she trailed hot, open-mouth kisses down his throat. Her pelvis rose and met his with increasing frequency, urging him to go faster, deeper, longer, and soon enough, there it was, that heat building up in her belly again, tighter and tighter, until it exploded like a white hot supernova and spread out throughout her body, leaving her shaking and shuddering and gasping for air.

Garrus groaned loudly as her inner walls clenched and pulsed around him, and he increased his pace even more, his movements becoming erratic and frantic until his hips finally stilled and pressed into Shepard's, pinning her to the mattress as he buried himself inside her as deep as he could. He moaned out her name, his muscles quaking as his release came in hot, rushing waves, and she held him, stroking his arm, his shoulder, his back, until he sucked in a long, harsh breath and collapsed onto his elbows above her.

Shepard lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his mouth, then plopped back down onto her pillow with a sated smile. She raised a hand and brushed a line from his nose down to his mandibles, cradling his face.

"And you wanted to sleep on the couch."

He laughed, leaning into her touch, and pressed his forehead to hers. "Sometimes even _I_ have stupid ideas." Reluctantly, slowly, he pulled out and rolled off of her, and gently drew her into his side. "Maybe we should get a little rest before we go for round two. Then, maybe three." His mandibles flared and he turned his head so he could look at her from the corner of his eye. "If your squishy body can take it."

Shepard gave him a mock sigh, but the corners of her lips quirked up into an exited grin. "I won't get much sleep tonight, will I?"

Garrus nuzzled the top of her head and huffed out a small chuckle. "Not unless you send me out to the couch after all."

She threw an arm over his narrow waist and buried her face into his shoulder, pressing herself as close to his warmth as she could, already plotting out the things she was going to do to him next.

"Not a chance."


	21. Calamity

Being a Spectre, as far as Jondum Bau was concerned, was just about the best job in this whole wide galaxy. Nothing could beat flying around in his own, personal ship, following his own, personal rules—all in the interest of his favorite activity: apprehending dangerous criminals and solving the Council's various problems. The work kept him busy, and it gave him a wonderful sense of contentment and accomplishment to know that he could make a real, tangible difference in people's lives.

Still, he was quite aware that even a workaholic salarian needed to relax sometimes, so, after making sure the _Inandra_ was in good hands, he packed up his bags and headed straight home. In all honesty, he was looking forward to having a nice, soaking bath instead of the quick showers he'd been limited to on the ship, enjoying a cup of herbal tea, and sleeping an hour or two before he checked in with his contacts and reviewed his case files.

Traffic was always heavy at this hour and, unsurprisingly, the Presidium was already in its night cycle by the time he arrived at his apartment. The place was dark and cold, and the air smelled dusty and stale—a clear indication that his cousin, despite his explicit orders, had _not_ come by the day before to tidy things up and stock the refrigerator with fresh food. It was disappointing; Bau had been really looking forward to the bowl of _ker'shan_ stew he'd asked Chel to purchase from his favorite restaurant before he and his protégés had left Bekenstein and set course for the Citadel.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it now. He'd have to deal with his cousin later; but first, there were some important things he had to do.

Trying to ignore the loud protests of his empty stomach, he set out on his rounds around the apartment, checking his security systems and making sure that nothing had been tampered with during his absence. It took a few minutes, but the results were satisfactory, at least, so he relaxed his shoulders and strode into the kitchen to look for something to eat and to boil a pot of water for his tea.

He opened the refrigerator with cautious optimism, hoping to find at least _some_ food that was still edible after his long absence. Alas, the shelves were nearly empty; the only things staring back at him, sad and lonely, were a piece of dry, shriveled up _nappa_ fruit and a bottle of asari cactus juice that his neighbor had insisted he try when she happened to catch him at home the last time he was here.

Bau heaved out a sigh and closed the door. He was hungry, but he was not _that_ desperate; besides, if he remembered right, he still had at least one carton of dehydrated rations somewhere in the upper cabinet. So, he poured some water into the tea pot and got the heating unit running, and started to rummage through the cabinet for the rations.

His hand had just found the box he was looking for in the back of a high shelf when the apartment's security system buzzed an alarm, and the VI announced a visitor requesting entry from the outside hallway.

Brows furrowed, Bau dropped the box and slowly crept over to his surveillance monitor. Maybe he'd gotten lucky, and it was his cousin suddenly remembering the food he was supposed to bring over, but you never knew. It could be an assassin, or, even worse, the neighbor with another bottle of that horrid juice.

A careful look and a quick ID scan confirmed that his unexpected visitor was none of those. The person standing on the other side of the door was a delivery man, holding up a good-sized packet that was wrapped in elegant, golden foil and decorated with a fancy red bow.

"Special delivery!" the man announced, shoving the box into the camera's lens for good measure. "Need to sign for it!"

Bau tilted his head and scratched the skin beneath his right eye as he pondered the situation. He had not been expecting a package, but that didn't necessarily mean that this was not a legitimate shipment. It was unusual, but not entirely unheard of, for a witness or a contact to send him something, a file or some kind of evidence, without alerting him about it first. As for the man in the hallway, his credentials had checked out: according to the records the Spectre had quickly pulled up on his terminal, the human male in the purple and silver uniform did work for a courier service that specialized in shipping gifts to high-class customers.

Hmm. A gift… Could somebody from his family have sent him a surprise present from home? Well, if that was the case, he sure hoped it was food.

He tried not to get his hopes up as he went ahead and pushed the button to unlock the security system and open the door. Regardless of his curiosity, however, and just in case things were not as innocent as they looked, he made sure to step back, his hand hovering conveniently over his sidearm, as he waited for the man to walk in.

"A little late for deliveries, isn't it?" he asked, head cocked and eyes narrowed, as soon as the delivery man had passed over the threshold. He might have been intrigued by the contents of that package, but he was not stupid. This could still be some kind of a deception set up by one of his enemies, after all.

"My apologies," said the human, setting his datapad on top of the box and offering his digital pen to the Spectre.

Bau ignored him as he pored over the shipping manifest, looking for the name of the sender. His lips pursed and his brows furrowed into a frown when he found it.

Apparently, he had a _"Secret Admirer_. _"_

"We had strict instructions for immediate delivery of the parcel as soon as we received it from the sender," the human continued. "Which was," he took back the datapad from Bau once he had signed the form, and looked at the time stamp, "forty minutes ago. I would have arrived sooner, but there was an accident two blocks from here and—"

"Fine." The Spectre waved a hand of dismissal. "You may go."

The man cleared his throat and lingered for a few seconds, seemingly waiting for something. Bau let out a sigh and gestured at the door, slightly annoyed at the incompetence of this person in finding the exit by himself. The delivery man scowled and stomped out in a huff, and Bau shook his head as he locked down his apartment once more.

With the package in his hands, he strolled into the kitchen and carefully set the box on the counter before he began a thorough inspection of the mystery item. He found a small holo chip attached to the top, addressed to him, that needed to be unencrypted with his personal ID before it could be powered on.

Bau frowned as he considered this new development. Maybe it _was_ some kind of a secret file, disguised as a package from a lovelorn acquaintance. Whatever it was, he was quite anxious to have the riddle solved, so he synced the chip with his omni-tool, and when the tiny light on it turned green, he pushed the button on its right side to play the message.

It was a video and audio recording. A holo screen flickered to life in the air, crackling and sputtering for a moment before the picture cleared up, and a familiar, hooded face appeared above the box.

"Hey, Spectre," Kasumi Goto crooned, flashing her white teeth in a cheeky smile. "Missed me?

Jondum Bau's lips pressed together into a thin line. This could not be good news. _Nothing_ connected to Goto ever was.

"Sorry I had to run on Bekenstein," the woman went on. "Would have loved to stay and chat, but you know how it is." She huffed out a throaty chuckle and leaned forward, letting the sparkle in her eyes peek out from under her hood. "I really appreciate your help with Hock, though. So, as a token of my thanks, please accept this box of candied _drael_ beetles from Sur'Kesh. I've been told it's the best brand, and I _really_ hope you'll enjoy it."

Bau's eyes darted down to the box from the screen, and his stomach growled a long, plaintive whine. Candied _drael_ beetles. From Sur'Kesh. He hadn't had those since… he couldn't even remember when. His saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought of a bite, and he almost missed it when Kasumi leaned back from the screen and went on.

"Go ahead and scan it," she said in the tone of a parent placating a stubborn child, allowing him, after much persuasion, to have some sweets before dinner. For an insane moment, she reminded him of his own mother and her tired resignations whenever he'd insisted on doing some crazy stunt she'd been dead set against. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to poison you. There would be no fun in that. I like you too much to do that to you, my Spectre. I do enjoy our little games together."

The woman laughed and blew him a kiss, then the screen faded to black before it fizzled out.

The room fell silent, and Bau stared at the box, frowning, for several long moments. He had never, not once, accepted a bribe from _anybody_ , let alone a hardened criminal like Kasumi Goto. Despite his gnawing hunger, he was absolutely _not_ going to do so now, no matter how good those candied beetles were. Straight from Sur'Kesh. Probably by the famous Sortius Confectioners.

His fingers ran over the top of the package and the bow attached to it, and he swallowed, his tongue longing for a taste of that delicious, sweet, crispy crunch he remembered from his childhood.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a look. If for nothing else, at least to ascertain whether Kasumi Goto had any nefarious plans with this "gift." Which, to be honest, was highly possible.

Not that she would ever lower herself to something as crude as poison or a bomb—he'd truly believed her when she'd said she wasn't about to do that (although, on the other hand, her partner might). But, if he had learnt anything through these years of chasing the master thief, it was that she always, _always,_ had some kind of plan, some kind of an ulterior motive behind everything she ever did.

And, as a good investigator and an even better Spectre, he would be amiss if he didn't figure out what that motive was this time.

Confident in his decision now that he had a plan of his own, Bau raised his left arm and scanned the package with his omni-tool. As expected, it lacked any explosive device or dangerous biological agent. That was certainly good news, but his examination was not done yet. Ever so carefully, methodically, he pulled the holo chip and the bow off and removed the wrapping foil.

His eyes widened as the candy box, classic and stylish, came into view. He'd been correct. It _was_ by Sortius Confectioners and, spirits of the Motherworld, the pictures on the packaging were even more beautiful than he remembered.

Well. Now to see what exactly it was that lay inside.

With a shaky hand, he lifted off the top, and exposed three rows of elegantly wrapped candied beetles in the mold. He took a deep inhale; the shapes, the colors, the smells were absolutely glorious. Gently, he dug in and plucked one of the items out to give it a closer look and a sniff.

By all appearances, it was the real thing.

Bau groaned. It would have been easier if it had turned out to be an obvious fake. Still, he was a person of honor, while Kasumi Goto was not, and despite the insistent begging of his empty stomach, he was determined to resist the temptation to pop that seductive piece of delicacy into his mouth.

He took one last sniff before he slid the brightly wrapped piece of tantalizing goodness inside a side pocket of his armor. Come the next day cycle, he was going to take it to the Spectre offices and ask them to run some tests to determine if there was any kind of suspicious material in it that his omni-tool might have missed.

Still hungry, but the mystery package dealt with, he turned his attention back to his tea. By now, the water was boiling furiously, and he switched the unit off, ready to get the steeping of his favorite brew started.

He got only as far as pulling a mug out of the top cabinet. Before he could even put the cup down, his omni-tool pinged, and the _Urgent Message_ icon lit up. Bau raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. This was not his lucky day.

He tapped the button to bring up the communications window, and forgot all about his tea and his empty stomach when he read through the message.

"Spectre," the foreman of the maintenance crew had written, "we have a problem."

 

* * *

Jondum Bau had never seen the maintenance dock so deserted. Granted, this was the first time he had come by during the night cycle, so he didn't really have a base of comparison, and, according to the information he'd received half an hour ago, all work had stopped on the _Inandra_ once the installation crew had discovered a series of stress cracks on the hull. Still, he'd thought there would be at least _some_ people around, even now. Life, after all, never stopped on the Citadel.

Walking through the silent, empty space put him on edge, and for a moment, he wondered if he should have called Shepard and Vakarian to join him for this discussion about the unexpected setback and the repairs needed to proceed. They should probably learn how to deal with the technical difficulties that are bound to emerge with such advanced upgrades, anyway. After all, one day, they were going to have their own vessels, and it wouldn't hurt for them to know how to handle issues like this.

After a short, internal debate with himself, he decided to discard the thought. He'd given them shore leave, which they both deserved, and he wasn't going to interrupt their time off because of an unsubstantiated hunch. Besides, it wasn't as though he wasn't used to working alone; until he'd taken up this mentoring assignment, he'd accomplished all his missions on his own, and, if he did say so himself, he'd accomplished them quite well. If it turned out that he did need his students' help after all, he could still call them for backup; Vakarian's apartment wasn't too far from the docks, so he and Shepard should be able to get there rather quickly.

His mind made up about the situation, Bau proceeded on his own but, just in case his gut feeling turned out to be correct, he approached the ship slowly. He kept his hand on his pistol the whole time, and his eyes scanned every little nook around him that somebody could have used as a hiding place.

He saw no-one.

That was only the outside, though; Arstan Ipon had suggested meeting in the engineering room of the _Inandra_ , where they could run some simulations to determine the best course of action. So, when Bau reached the airlock hatch, he opened it as gingerly as he could, then he took a deep breath, and stalked inside.

There was no ambush waiting for him beyond the doors. The ship was almost completely silent, only her stand-by systems running softly in the background. The familiar, low-level hum of the power cells felt like a comforting blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and Bau couldn't help but wonder whether Spectre work had made him too paranoid for his own good. Maybe figuring out the necessary repairs had taken longer than he'd expected, and the foreman had sent his workers home; it was logical, really, that with the upgrades halted, there was no need for them to hang around.

Still, he treaded as lightly as he was able to on the metal flooring as he walked on. He didn't encounter a soul as he crept through his ship and took the elevator down, until he rounded the corner, entered engineering, and came face to face with Arstan Ipon.

_With the bruised, bloody face of Arstan Ipon._

The old salarian, arms and legs shackled and torso tied to a chair that must have been dragged in from the storage room, lifted his head from his blood-speckled chest when Bau entered. "I'm sorry," he whispered, locking his glassy gaze onto the Spectre.

It took Bau less than one second to appraise the situation. Whoever did this was either an opportunistic criminal who had taken advantage of the lone worker on the ship in order to steal something, or this was a trap, and the target of the attack was actually… _him_. In which case, whoever the people that did this were, they were still here, somewhere.

All his senses on full alert now, his ear canals picked up a barely audible sound of a sneaky step behind him, and without a conscious thought, he threw himself into cover by the computer terminal on his left. He fired before his knee even had a chance to hit the floor, and a man in a blue and white armor to his right crumpled to the ground.

Through the haze of his adrenaline rush and over the blood suddenly hammering in his ears, he could vaguely hear Arstan Ipon's scream as more enemy combatants poured into the room. Bau fired again and again, leaning out from his cover and ducking back in when the enemy's bullets grazed his position, until there was a white hot flash in front of his eyes and a burst of energy, hard and unyielding, that slammed straight into his chest, sending his body flying through the air. He landed in a limp heap on the floor, his head hitting the metal plating with a thump, and he groaned, coughing up the blood that had bubbled up in his throat at the impact.

His hand shot out and searched blindly for his gun, and he silently thanked whatever spirits were looking out for him when he bumped into the familiar shape next to his hip. His joy was premature; before his fingers could wrap around the warm butt of his weapon, a heavy boot stomped down on his arm, and ground it painfully into the floor.

Bau blinked up into the barrel of a shotgun, aimed straight at his head. The man behind it gave him a sneer, and time slowed down as the Spectre watched the human's finger slowly tighten around the trigger.

"Idiot!" somebody shouted, and Bau's unfocused eyes drifted over to another hand as it roughly grabbed the human's arm and jerked it, along with the shotgun, away from his face. "We're supposed to take him alive!"

That was the last thing he heard before he felt the sharp prick of a needle in his neck, his eyes rolled back into his skull, and the world went dark.

After that, there was only silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks, and special thanks and cookies to the lovely people who took the time to leave a comment on the last chapter. I really appreciate it and I'm glad you liked the chapter! :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.


	22. Change of Plans

Growing up, Shepard had always been the heaviest sleeper in her family. Not that she particularly liked going to bed; on the contrary: she hated "wasting time" lying on her mattress doing nothing, but once her head had hit the pillow, she'd be out till the morning, and nothing, not even the infamous pillow fights between her brother and sister, could raise her from her state of blissful unconsciousness.

All of that had changed on that awful, awful day when the batarians had come. After that, things would never be the same. No matter where she was, Shepard would startle awake to every little noise, every little movement, every small change in the atmosphere around her. Sure, after years in the military, she'd come to appreciate any and all opportunities for some shut-eye, and she'd learnt to fall asleep anywhere, in any position, but she never really succumbed to that deep, carefree slumber of her childhood anymore.

Until now.

Whether it was due to her being exhausted after all those rounds of enthusiastic lovemaking with Garrus, or to the fact that she felt safe and relaxed in his arms, she slept like a baby, and didn't move a muscle for hours, until she finally woke up to a loud, growling pang of hunger in her stomach and a stiff, aching cramp in her neck.

With the outside light stabbing little pinpricks of fire into her eyes, she blinked as the room slowly came into focus, and bit into her lower lip to keep herself from moaning as she carefully lifted her head from Garrus's shoulder. Perhaps using him as a pillow hadn't been one of her brightest ideas, but during the night, limp and sated, she couldn't have cared less whether he was soft and fluffy or if he was made out of stone. It had felt good to be cuddled, to feel wanted and cared for, and to fall asleep to the soothing, purring rumble that vibrated in Garrus's chest underneath her ear.

In fact, cramp or no cramp, she certainly hoped for a repeat performance sometime later—maybe right after she'd eaten something. Something substantial, preferably, to replenish all that energy their vigorous bedtime activities had depleted.

Wincing from the pain that shot a jabbing path of misery from her neck down to her shoulder blade, she finally started to move, and began the slow, careful process of extricating herself from the gently snoring turian's hold. Garrus turned on his side with a sigh when he lost contact with her body, but he didn't wake, so she slipped out of bed without a sound, and went in search of her night clothes.

She found them on the floor where they'd fallen when she'd flung them across the room, and she couldn't help but smile, cheeks flushed, as she picked them up, remembering the way Garrus had caressed her skin and kissed her throat and pulled her onto his length when she'd straddled him and…

She took a deep breath and clenched her jaws as heat began to pool in her core at the memories of his touch, and she shot a wistful glance at the turian's prone body lying motionless just a few feet away.

It was tempting to crawl back under the sheets and burrow into his arms, but before she could take a step, her stomach growled again, reminding her of its plight.

She shook her head and heaved out a sigh. Right. Breakfast. _Then_ back to bed.

She tugged on her shorts and tee shirt, cringing at the sensation of the fabric brushing against her slightly bruised skin, and tiptoed out of the room, letting the door close quietly behind her.

The floor felt pleasantly cool under her feet as she walked into the kitchen and made her way to the refrigerator. Good thing she'd bought so much stuff the day before at Zakera Café; she was absolutely famished by now.

She grabbed two egg-and-cheese sandwiches, a cup of Thessian yoghurt, two purple, pear-shaped pieces of some kind of salarian fruit, a bottle of apple juice imported straight from Earth, and a can of instant coffee, piling them into her arms, and lumbered over to the breakfast bar with her prize. Dumping them onto the smooth surface, she pulled out a chair and sat down, then proceeded to tear the wrapper off of one of the sandwiches with the ferocity of a starving wolf.

The first bite was wonderful; the second, even better. At the third, Garrus came stumbling out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.

He stopped abruptly and blinked at Shepard's hoard on the counter when he caught sight of her, munching happily away by the breakfast bar. "Hungry?" he asked, mandibles fluttering open in an amused smirk.

Shepard nodded, but didn't stop chewing. "Mmm."

Garrus chuckled and stepped closer. "Yeah. Me, too."

He bent down to touch foreheads for a moment, then he walked over to the fridge, rummaged inside for a while, and plucked out a container of sliced meat and a bottle of orange liquid.

Laying his stash on the counter, he settled down beside Shepard and pressed his knee against hers.

"So…" he said, looking down at her from the corner of his eye as he popped a piece of food into his mouth, "any plans for today?"

Shepard gulped down half her juice before she grinned up at him. "Breakfast. Then, I'm thinking bed."

Garrus's blue eyes lit up. His chest rumbling with a happy purr, he dropped his hand onto her knee and slid the pads of his fingers up her thigh. "I wholeheartedly support your idea."

His touch sent an excited shiver down her spine, but Shepard couldn't quite hold back a small hiss when his talon, as blunted as it was, dug into the chafed skin on her inner thigh.

Garrus froze. "Sorry. Still hurts? Maybe we shouldn't—"

Shepard grabbed his hand before he could withdraw it. "No, it's fine. Just needs a little more medi-gel is all." He gave her an uncertain look, and she smiled at him, running her thumb over the scales peppering the tops of his fingers. "We'll figure out something. Put some lotion on. Or stuff the sheets between us, like we did last night. Or you could take a nice, long shower to soften up your hide."

The thrumming hum in Garrus's chest dropped down at least an octave at that last suggestion. "Hmm. Maybe you could join me. Right after breakfast."

Her lip curling up into a smirk, she let go of his hand to pick up her bottle and take a slow sip of her drink. "Maybe I could."

His mandibles flared out as he dug into the food in front of him once more. "Hurry up and eat, then."

Shepard's smirk stretched into a full-blown, toothy grin. "Anxious, are we?"

"You could say that."

She chuckled and took a big bite of the rest of her sandwich. Yeah, so was she.

 

* * *

One sandwich, half a fruit, and three hurried spoonfuls of yoghurt later, Shepard was beginning to come to the decision that maybe she wasn't really that hungry anymore. Garrus had been done with his food for a while, and he'd spent these last couple of minutes playing with her hair, running a gentle talon down her arm, and generally trying to make her as hot and bothered as he possibly could. Which, damn his cocky turian smirk, he was exceptionally good at.

She avoided looking at him and pretended to be enormously interested in the food still laid out in front of her, but she couldn't suppress the shudders down her spine or the tiny goose bumps on her skin as he stroked her back and drew lazy circles on her neck. The pressure between her legs was building, and she was on the verge of abandoning the remainder of her breakfast and dragging him to the bedroom for another round in the sack (not that she would need to do much dragging, by the look of things) when their omni-tools chirped in perfect synchronicity.

Their eyes met for a moment, wary and disappointed, before they both raised their arms and turned on the holographic interface.

The message was from Bau.

_Need help. I've been—_

Shepard crinkled her brows and shot a confused glance at Garrus. He tilted his head as he looked back at her, turning his omni-tool towards her to display the curious massive in the air.

"That all you got?" he asked, peering at the interface hovering over her own arm.

"Yeah. What's going on?"

Garrus spread his hands and shook his head. "No idea. You think this might be one of his tests?"

The corner of Shepard's lips pulled into a grimace as she pondered the possibility. "I don't know. Maybe."

It wouldn't be the first time for their mentor to do something like that; though, thankfully, Bau hadn't gone down that road in quite a while. Shepard really hoped the Spectre was not back to his old tricks. At least, not during shore leave. Not when she and Garrus had all these _plans_.

She huffed out a frustrated puff of air and raked her fingers through her hair. Well, so much for breakfast and bed. "Wonder why he cut off there, though. Maybe bad reception? Or something happened?"

Garrus raised his shoulders in a shrug, and punched in the Spectre's code on his omni-tool to put in a call to him.

There was no answer.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Great. Now what? We don't even know where he is."

Shepard's fingers found their way to the counter and began ticking out a restless beat. "How about C-Sec? Do they have some kind of tracking system?"

"No. At least, not the way you think. Entries onto the station are logged, but people are not followed around unless they are under suspicion of a crime. Certainly nobody would track a Spectre for no reason."

"Okay." She chewed her lips and ran all the places through her head Bau might be at the moment. "What if we start with his home? The _Inandra_ is in dry dock; I doubt he's hanging out around there."

Garrus gave her a thoughtful nod. "Yeah. All right." He pushed away from the counter, picking up his empty bowl and glass. "Dammit. I was really looking forward to that shower."

 

* * *

Bau was _not_ at home. They'd buzzed his intercom three times, but there was no answer. The only result they got was an asari in a silk robe poking her head out from behind her door across the hallway.

"He left a few hours ago," she said, frowning.

Shepard whirled around, her brows furrowed and jaw set hard. Great. She _so_ loved wild goose chases. "Yeah? Do you know where he went?"

"No." The asari leaned her hip against the doorframe and lifted her hand to grab the opposite side, her ample bosom thrust out. "He came home, received a package, and soon after, he left." She let out a sigh and her lip curled down in a pout as she waved a frustrated hand. "Just as I was about to go over and invite him to dinner."

Garrus stepped closer, mandibles pulled tight to his face, eyes sharp and intent—the perfect image of a predator on the hunt. "What kind of package? Who sent it?"

"I don't know. I only saw the delivery man's back on my monitor. By the time I'd made myself presentable and opened my door, the Spectre was already leaving. Didn't even stop to talk. Seemed to be in a hurry."

Shepard exchanged a quick glance with Garrus. Something was definitely going on here. Well, not _here_ —Bau was obviously somewhere else at the moment. The whole thing sounded less and less like one of the salarian's infamous tests and more and more like an actual emergency.

Garrus gave the asari a curt nod before he turned around and headed to the elevator. Shepard followed him, waving a hand of acknowledgement at Bau's neighbor when she yelled after them, "If you see him, tell him to come over. I have more of that Thessian cactus juice he likes so much!"

"Now what?" Shepard asked as soon as the elevator's door closed behind them.

Garrus scratched the back of his neck. "Something's up. He got a package, and then he left in a hurry. The two things might be related. Or… maybe not. We need more information."

Shepard folded her arms over her chest and leaned her back against the wall. "Yeah. I wish he was answering his calls. I wonder where the hell he's at."

Garrus's mandibles fluttered as he searched his brain for any location the salarian might have mentioned in connection with some business he needed to conduct during their stay on the Citadel.

The only thing he could come up with was the upgrades to his ship.

"Maybe he did go to the docks to check up on the work on the _Inandra,_ " he said.

Shepard pushed away from the elevator's wall. "Worth a try. If nothing else, we can check his workstation for any hints about some case he might have planned on working on while we were here."

The elevator came to a stop and its door whooshed open, and they walked back to the skycar in silence. If they were lucky, they would catch up with the Spectre soon, find out what exactly it was he needed help with, then, hopefully, get back to Garrus's apartment to resume _their own activities._

 

* * *

Naturally, they were _not_ lucky.

They found the dock strangely devoid of life, despite the fact that an entire battalion of workers were supposed to be buzzing around the ship, rushing back and forth, attaching the new shielding, and upgrading the defense systems.

"I don't like this," Garrus said as they approached the airlock.

"Me neither." Shepard's hand slid down to her sidearm, just in case, as Garrus activated the input panel on the door.

The door was already unlocked.

Garrus's gaze snapped to Shepard, his brows furrowed above his blue eyes, and she frowned back at him in wordless agreement. This was not normal. With no workers around to necessitate easy access to the inside, there was no reason to allow entry to just anybody who happened to come by. Bau would certainly not allow that.

Would he?

Maybe it was all innocent; maybe there were only a few people doing upgrades on the ship at the moment, and somebody had just gone out to get something, neglecting to lock up behind them. Either way, they needed to get a move on and check things out for themselves, so Garrus pulled his rifle off his back and pushed the door open, leading the way inside.

Shepard's blood thrummed in her ears and the hair on the back of her neck stood up as they crept along. They found the cockpit, as well as all the rooms on the main level, empty. Whatever was going on, it was not happening _here_. There was one more level to check, though, so they took the elevator down, hoping that it wouldn't make too much noise this time.

Figuring that, if there _were_ some workers here, they would probably be working on the mechanical systems, they made their way to engineering first.

What they found made them stop in their tracks.

The floor was slick with blood, a mixture of red, blue, and green smeared together in a sickening composition, peppered with spent heat sinks in distinct groups, and there were scorch marks from weapons fire on nearly every surface. Whatever had happened here, it must have been a brutal fight—and yet, there was only one body in the entire room: a salarian, slumped over in a chair, shackled and tied down, green blood caked on his face and soaked into the fabric of his clothes around a hole in his side.

It wasn't Bau.

Shepard pulled her gloves off and pressed two fingers to the salarian's throat, looking for a pulse. It took her a while to find it; it was faint, very faint, but it did beat, albeit weakly, with a barely recognizable pattern beneath her fingertips. "He's still alive," she said, lifting her eyes to Garrus. "He won't be able to tell us what the hell has happened, though. At least, not for a while."

Garrus nodded and opened up his omni-tool's interface to put in a call to a hospital and ask for an ambulance. Shepard left the poor bastard in the chair to walk around the room and examine the blood patterns, smear marks, heat sinks—anything that might give them a better picture of the events that had transpired here. Garrus soon joined her; eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, he squatted down at a spot by the computer terminal, and pointed at some tracks that had been left in a puddle of blood.

"Somebody was dragged through here," he said. He turned his head when something caught his attention, and inhaled sharply as he got up and walked over to the wall behind a console.

Shepard followed him with her gaze, and let out a gasp of her own when he bent down and picked up a pistol. It looked like one of Bau's. Garrus turned it over in his hand, and she waited, her blood hammering in her ears and her throat dry, as he searched for the ID number.

Garrus didn't get the chance to say whether he'd found it; before he could open his mouth, both their omni-tools pinged with a message, marked urgent and classified.

It was from the Council.

_Report to the Council Chambers immediately. We have some news about Spectre Bau._

 

* * *

"It doesn't make sense," Garrus growled, his hands curled into angry fists by his side. "If Vido Santiago's brother has so much power in the Blue Suns that he can pull off kidnapping a Spectre, why doesn't he just take over their organization? This would be the perfect opportunity for him to become their new leader; why bother with a prisoner exchange? Is Santiago even in the shape to take up the reins again?"

Councilor Valern steepled his fingers together, his head inclined, as he studied the incensed turian. "According to the doctor's reports we have received from the hospital, Vido Santiago has just experienced some complications after an emergency surgery, and at the moment he is in a medically induced coma. As for Francisco Santiago's actual motives, I have no information to share. Perhaps he is, indeed, guided by brotherly love; or, maybe he is not as powerful as he seems, and he needs his brother back in the business so that he can keep his own position."

"It doesn't matter what his goals are," Sparatus barked out with a sneer. "We do not negotiate with criminals or terrorists. There's going to be no prisoner exchange."

Shepard's lips tightened into a scowl. Of course, the Council's position was logical; most governing bodies would make the same decision. The Alliance certainly would. But that didn't mean that they just had to accept the situation as it was.

"And what about Bau?" she asked. "What happens to him if Francisco Santiago doesn't get what he wants?"

"We can stall the Blue Suns for a while, especially since Vido Santiago has just had that _unexpected setback,_ " Tevos said, her tone making it clear that this "setback" was anything but unplanned and unexpected, "but, unfortunately, there is nothing we can do about Spectre Bau. We don't know where he is, and even if we did, we cannot send troops to free him. We have no jurisdiction outside of Citadel space; moreover, Francisco Santiago has threatened to kill the Spectre if we launch a military operation to get him back."

Shepard raised her chin as she slid determined eyes from one councilor to the next. "How about a small team, then? Maybe two people?"

The corners of Tevos's lips lifted into a smile. "Officially, we can't authorize any rescue missions. However, if you and Officer Vakarian decide to… _take some time off_ while we look for another mentor to continue your training, we have no objections."

"And," Sparatus added, "should you wish to leave the station during that time and travel out of Citadel space, we can provide some funds to cover your expenses."

Shepard's jaw slowly unclenched as she gave them a nod of understanding. Right. _No official backing, but feel free to go on a rescue mission with our funds while we tell the Blue Suns that Vido Santiago cannot be moved even if we wanted to_. Got it.

"I think Garrus and I will take you up on your offer."

Valern dipped his head in acknowledgement. "We will transfer some credits to a special account that you can use for renting a ship and for any _necessary supplies_ for your trip. I understand those far-away vacations can get quite expensive."

Shepard exchanged a quick glance with Garrus. His fists had finally uncurled themselves, but he seemed ready to get the hell out of here and start their preparations.

"Thank you. We appreciate it," she said as she stepped back from the podium and headed to the exit, Garrus following close behind.

"Good luck," Councilor Tevos called after them.

Shepard cast a glance over her shoulder, but the asari and her colleagues were already gone.

 

* * *

"I knew we should have killed that bastard," Garrus grunted as they walked to the sky cab lot.

Shepard shrugged a shoulder. "Perhaps. Too late for that now, though. But, there's always his brother. Especially if he lays a finger on Bau."

"Yeah. Well, so much for shore leave."

Shepard huffed out a sigh as they stepped up to a terminal and she put in a call for a cab. "Yeah."

A sleek, red skycar slid into the slot in front of them. She opened the door, sank into the driver's seat, and when Garrus joined her on the passenger side, she punched his address into the input panel.

"All right; let's get our gear, then. We have a Spectre to find."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions, and huge thanks for all the lovely comments on the last chapter! I appreciate it so, so much. :)
> 
> Sorry for the aborted sexytimes, but they'll have other opportunities for those kinds of... ahem... activities later, especially now that it's just the two of them. ;)
> 
> Have a wonderful holiday season, all of you, and a happy new year! I hope to see you sometime in January 2016. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.


	23. A New Ship

Jondum Bau had never really been one for foul language, but at this moment, as his fingers frantically flew over the haptic interface to shut off his messaging program and re-enable the blocking encryption his captors had installed on his omni-tool, he couldn't resist muttering a few choice words about the ancestry of whoever it was that had interrupted his attempted communication with Commander Shepard and Detective Vakarian.

Forehead furrowed in annoyed concentration, he powered down the device with haste and lay back down on his side, taking up the position he'd found himself in when he'd awakened in this place. By the time the door opened and the Blue Suns guard walked in, Bau was, once again, still and unmoving on the floor, his head slumped forward and his arms twisted uncomfortably behind his back.

Eyes closed, he listened as the man's boots thudded closer and closer on the metal floor, and did his best not to flinch when the cold barrel of a gun made contact with his neck and pushed roughly into the back of his skull.

"Up," a voice, deep and raspy, ordered from above.

Bau groaned, doing his best to make his discomfort sound as convincing as he could, and sat up slowly, rubbing his arms as though they'd gone to sleep. He blinked in an affected daze, eyes darting around the room to evaluate his situation. The open door and the narrow corridor beyond it confirmed his suspicion: he was, indeed, on a ship, probably on his way to some kind of holding facility. For what purpose, he did not know, and had no intention of sticking around long enough to find out. The mercenary pointing his weapon at him was certainly a problem, but it was nothing Bau hadn't dealt with before. Besides, if the fact that this man had come in here all by himself was any indication, he didn't expect much resistance from a salarian, Spectre qualifications notwithstanding. Not surprising, and definitely something Bau could use to his advantage.

With an improvised plan formulating in his mind now, he dragged himself up, swaying, pretending to be still woozy from the injection he'd received back on the Citadel. The guard stepped back and jerked his head at the door, the pistol in his hand wavering a bit with the motion, revealing his less than tight grip on his weapon.

Perfect.

Bau staggered and lurched forward, as though he'd tripped on his own two feet, and once he was close enough, he pounced, shoving the gun to the side and twisting it out of the mercenary's hand. Before his opponent had even realized what was happening, Bau already followed up with a solid strike to the temple with the butt of the weapon, dropping the man to the floor in a limp pile.

One down, who knew how many more to go.

 

* * *

"You know," Garrus said, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter as he watched Shepard trying to stuff the remainder of her groceries into her duffel bag, "when you said, 'let's get our gear,' I thought you meant our _equipment_."

Shepard shrugged, and kept on packing. "I'm not going to let all this go to waste. Besides, food _is_ part of my equipment. And who knows how long it will take us to find Bau? You heard what T'Soni said: the Blue Suns have bases and operations everywhere. We don't even have the faintest idea where to start looking. Not until the broker comes up with some leads."

Garrus picked up the last box of lemon cookies from the counter and turned it around in his hand. "Still, as unbelievable as it is after your raid on the station's food supplies yesterday, I'm pretty sure there _are_ a couple of stores left that haven't run out of everything. We can just buy whatever you need. We'll have to stock up on supplies anyway."

Shepard took the box from his hand and pushed it inside her bag, squeezing it in between her rolled-up tee-shirts and pants. "Oh, believe me," she said, glancing up with a smirk, "I fully intend to make use of those credits from the Council."

Garrus groaned in mock dread, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his fond amusement. "Well, to be honest, I wouldn't mind checking out some of the newest rifle mods myself."

Shepard hummed in approval as she forced the zipper closed, heaved up her bag, and hooked the strap over her shoulder. "Any news from Chellick?"

"Not yet. But these things take time. It will probably be a couple more hours before we have a list of possible Blue Suns ships leaving the Citadel since last night."

"Okay." She took one last look around while Garrus hauled up his own gear from the floor. "Too bad we couldn't stay longer. I like your place." She returned her gaze to Garrus, the corner or her lips quirking up in a lopsided smile. "And I really, _really_ enjoyed spending some time here with you."

Garrus's mandibles flared out in a mirror of her grin. "Me, too." He took a step closer and dipped his head down, his forehead almost touching hers. "You know… Once all this is over… Finding Bau, Spectre training, everything… You could spend more time here with me when you're on shore leave. If you want."

Shepard swallowed, her chest nearly bursting with the dueling emotions of apprehension about the lonely days when he was not going to be by her side anymore and immeasurable joy over the prospect of continuing their affair whenever their future schedules allowed. She reached up and cupped his face, running a thumb over the hardened plates under his blue eyes. "That would be great."

He let out a slow exhale and gently pressed his brow against hers. "I was hoping you would say that." He covered her small hand on his cheek with his large, three-fingered one for a moment before he laced their fingers together and began leading her towards the door. "All right. Let's go get us a ship, then."

She followed him, but halted and pulled her hand out of his grasp after a couple of steps. "Wait."

Garrus raised a brow plate as he watched her dig into her bag and pull out the lemon cookies. The box was a little crumpled, but it still stayed upright when she plopped it down on the kitchen counter.

She met his gaze, her eyes shining brightly as she gave him a wide smile. "For next time."

She slid her hand back into his, and they walked out the door, with her precious emergency cookies staying behind.

 

* * *

Bau's stalking around the deck he'd been imprisoned on resulted in a few pieces of interesting information. For starters, this was not a very big vessel. Small, maybe medium sized, with only a modest cargo hold, the one storage room that, at the moment, contained the Blue Suns mercenary Bau had knocked out, and a simple engine room with one console. There were no shuttles, unfortunately, which was not unusual, given that this was most likely a chartered cargo ship originally intended for shipping consumer goods within the system (a time-honored method for criminals to avoid scrutiny by the authorities).

The lack of a shuttle was definitely bad news; without a convenient means of escape, the only option left was to take over the cockpit and pilot the ship himself—which, of course, meant making it up to the main deck and dealing with the remainder of the enemy crew.

On the other hand, considering the size of this ship and the fact that Bau hadn't encountered anybody down here yet, it was probably safe to say that there weren't a lot of Blue Suns members on board. Perhaps their group was comprised only of those few mercs that had been left alive after their shootout on the _Inandra—_ and that couldn't have been more than three or four people. And, luckily, one of them was already incapacitated and locked up in Bau's former cell.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to tilt those numbers in his favor, so Bau set to work on that engineering console, setting up a fake alert that would surely bring down at least one person to deal with the supposed catastrophic component failure in the forward thrusters.

Satisfied with his handiwork, the Spectre disabled the lights in the engineering section, disappeared into a dark corner, and waited.

 

* * *

Bortan Kunn waved a proud arm at the holo ads lining the walls of Kunn's Ships and Shuttles, showcasing his impressive fleet of commercial vessels for rent. "You've come to the right place," he said, his respirator wheezing with every sharp inhale and exhale of his filtered breath. He walked around the wide counter he'd been idly standing behind, and waddled over to the sales kiosk to tap a few buttons and call up the inventory listing of the available vehicles. "Business trip, cargo transport, family vacation, _romantic getaway_ , "he glanced back over his shoulder, tilting his head and pausing for a second as he let his insinuation sink in (Shepard wondered if he wriggled his brows behind his mask as well), "long range, short range, you name it. We have it all."

Garrus stepped up to the display, towering over the merchant and deliberately crowding him out of his spot. "Fine. We'll let you know."

The volus grunted something and withdrew, and immediately latched onto a new customer that had walked through the door just as they'd finished their little exchange.

Shepard joined Garrus at the kiosk and bumped his elbow. "Shall we look for something for our _romantic getaway,_ then, _honey?_ "

Garrus chuckled, nudged her back, and began scrolling through the basic categories. "I think we should focus on the mid-size vessels. The ship needs to be innocuous, but it can't be too small. It has to have enough fuel storage capacity to be able to fly long distances on a single refill."

"I agree." Shepard rubbed her forehead, brows furrowed, as she read, along with Garrus, the specifications of each listing. "How about that one?" she said, pointing at a ship that looked about the same size as the _Inandra_.

Garrus tapped a talon on the metal casing that surrounded the monitor as they both read up on the details of their possible choice. "Yeah. I think that would work. Too bad it has no armor to speak of, but that's to be expected with a civilian vessel."

Satisfied with their selection, they called over the merchant and arranged for the rent. It was not cheap, but the credits from the Council were more than enough to cover the expenses. Arranging for the docking pass and the necessary documentation took a few minutes—which the volus took full advantage of, going into one enthusiastic speech after another about this extra option or that. They declined each and every one of them, although, for a brief moment, Shepard did waver at the mention of a pantry stocked with gourmet dishes and first class wines from all over the galaxy.

After an annoyed growl from Garrus, Bortan Kunn finally shut up and finished the deal, and they managed to walk out without spending the entirety of their funding just on this ship.

"I thought he was going to talk off my ears," Shepard said as they made their way towards the elevators.

Garrus looked at her head, and was about to say something—no doubt something hilarious, Shepard thought—when he suddenly stopped and stared at something behind her back. "Spirits."

She turned around, followed his gaze, and froze. Khalisah al-Jilani, local news reporter and enormous pain in the ass, was barreling down the corridor towards them, her camera drone, floating in the air just behind her shoulder, following behind and already recording every second of their inevitably terse interchange.

"Commander Shepard," al-Jilani shouted even before she'd arrived at their position, "what is your opinion about the Council abandoning your mentor to his fate? Are you concerned that they could do the same to you should _you_ get kidnapped in the future? Especially since you're _just a human_?"

Shepard's jaw dropped. How on earth did al-Jilani know about all this? Wouldn't the Council want to keep this whole affair a secret? She stared at the woman, unsure what exactly to say, and looked up at Garrus when he slightly tapped her elbow.

He jerked his chin at the news monitor on the wall behind al-Jilani's head. It was playing a video feed of Tevos, besieged by a herd of reporters on the steps leading to the Council chambers. "The situation is unfortunate, but we will not negotiate with criminals and terrorists," Tevos said as she tried to push her way through the crowd. "All we can do is pray for Spectre Bau's safe return."

al-Jilani stepped in front of Shepard, blocking her view of the screen, demanding her attention. "My sources say you were dismissed from Spectre training. Is this punishment for not being there to protect your mentor? Are they going to use this incident to prove that humans are not ready for that position?"

Shepard's hands curled into fists. Every time she dealt with this infuriating woman (unfortunately, being a Spectre candidate was like honey to flies for nutcases like her) she felt like punching a wall. Or maybe al-Jilani. Either one would work. "Look, Miss," she started to grind out, but stopped when the newswoman's camera drone, faithfully recording every moment of their conversation until this moment, began to crackle and sputter and spill forth a thick wisp of smoke.

Shepard's lips pulled back into a snicker. She hadn't noticed Garrus playing with his omni-tool until now. "I think your camera's malfunctioning," she pointed out helpfully, leaning back on one leg and folding her arms in front of her chest.

al-Jilani whirled around to take a look at her drone and let out a small shriek. "Oh, no. My camera!'

Shepard and Garrus didn't hang around to watch the sparkles as the machine burst into flames.

"Nice," Shepard said, still beaming like a happy loon, as they walked away.

Garrus glanced down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in smug mirth. "I have my ways."

She laughed. "You sure do. But seriously; how the hell did the leeches find out?"

Garrus opened his hands in a shrug. "Who knows. They do have their sources. Or maybe the Blue Suns leaked it to force the Council's hand. Either way, we should hurry up with our shopping and get the hell out of here before it gets worse."

"Yeah. Too bad, though; I would have loved to spend a little time checking out some of the better stores on the Presidium after we got the basic food and ammo supplies we need."

Garrus slapped the elevator's call button with the palm of his hand before he turned back to look at her, his mandibles flaring as he flashed her a toothy grin. "I think we can make time for some nice mods."

 

* * *

Bau's plan worked, which was lucky, but not totally unexpected; no crew would want to risk getting stranded in space because of an overlooked, faulty spark plug in the engines, after all.

Even better, it was only one lone batarian coming down to the deck to fix the issue, and the Spectre had no problem eliminating him from the dark. He sent a bullet to the back of the man's skull, then he took the elevator up, hoping that when the door opened, he would not be coming onto more than a couple more Blue Suns.

He didn't. The corridor was empty, and he crept ahead, making his way to the cockpit. He was halfway there when the ship shuddered and groaned, and there was the unmistakable sound and sensation of the vessel coming to a stop on some kind of solid surface.

For the second time that day, Jondum Bau cursed. The ship had just landed somewhere.

That was definitely not good. He had no idea where they were, but wherever it was, he was pretty sure he did _not_ want to be there. Desperate to make his move _now_ , he threw every caution aside and switched to running, gun pointed ahead, determined to make it to the cockpit before the airlock door opened and more enemy combatants came aboard.

He could see the pilot already, and he aimed the pistol and fired—just as the man turned around, locked gazes with him, and slammed his fist on the door control. Bau could see the bullet make contact with the merc's shoulder and spray bright red drops of blood out in an arc before the door slid shut.

There was a loud bang and a hiss behind him as the airlock door opened, and soon enough, he could hear heavy footsteps approaching. He frantically looked around for some place—any place—where he could hide.

He noticed a panel in the wall, not far from his position, covering a vent or a service tunnel, and he rushed over and tried to pry the thing off. He almost got it; he was about to lift the cover off and climb inside, but he froze when a voice, raspy and harsh, called out behind him.

"Halt."

Slowly, Bau turned around, his hand surreptitiously sliding down to his sidearm he had shoved into his belt when he'd started working on yanking the cover off.

"Uh-uh," the voice said. "I wanna see your hands. Stick'em up."

It was the same guard, his temple bruised and bloodied, that Bau had knocked out and locked into the storage room before—a mistake he deeply regretted now. He should have killed him instead.

"Going somewhere?" the man said with a sneer.

Bau's eyes flicked down to the shotgun in the merc's hand, then up to the group of blue-and-white armored soldiers storming into the space from the airlock, their weapons leveled straight at his head.

He dropped his borrowed pistol on the floor and raised his hands. One man, he could have handled. Five, not so much. Besides, although this attempt might have been a failure, as long as he was still alive, there was always a chance for another try.

He sighed, resigned to spend a bit more time in the company of these criminals until he got that other chance. "Apparently not."

 

* * *

Shopping for supplies and weapon and armor upgrades took almost two hours; supervising delivery and having the containers stowed in their new ship's cargo hold another forty-five minutes. By the time all bureaucratic issues had been settled and every last box had been catalogued and put away, and Shepard and Garrus could finally sit down and breathe, it was late into the Citadel's evening cycle.

"I'm so hungry," Shepard said, her back hunched in her chair and her head resting on her forearms folded over the mess table.

Garrus leaned back in his own chair and barked out a chuckle. "Then eat something."

"I'm too tired to move."

Garrus let out a long exhale. It took some effort, but he managed to gather himself up (truth be told, he was just as exhausted as her) and trudge over to the freezer. "I can warm something up for you. What do you want?"

She raised her head from her arms and gave him a grateful smile. "I'm the luckiest woman alive."

"I know." She snorted, and he grinned back at her. "Well," he said, picking out a box and reading its label, "How about macaroni and—"

They nearly jumped out of their skins when their omni-tools chimed in unison. Exhaustion and hunger forgotten, they both pulled up the interface in a rush, and stared at each other once they'd read the message. It was from Kasumi Goto, and brief as it was, it was the best news they'd had since they'd woken up this morning.

_Let's talk. I have some information about Jondum Bau._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos, favorites, and subscriptions, and especially for all the lovely, heartwarming, inspiring comments on the last chapter! Your support means so much; it's what keeps me going when I feel a bit down about the story, so I really, really appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you thought of a chapter. Thank you!
> 
> I had hoped to have an update earlier than this, but with the holidays and then a small writer's block, that didn't happen. But, at least I still made it before the end of January, so that is something! Right? :D
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for her speedy beta reading and her help and support. :)


	24. An Offer of Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks, and special thanks for the lovely comments.
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven, my wonderful beta, for her speedy work and her help and encouragement.
> 
>  **Warning:** This chapter has adult content.

Shepard scowled, her initial excitement at Kasumi Goto's message quickly swept away by a surge of doubt. Criminals weren't exactly known for altruism, after all—especially not when it came to people who'd spent years relentlessly chasing them across the galaxy. Her eyes still locked on Garrus, she jerked her chin at the message glowing brightly on her omni-tool. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what do you think her angle is here? You think she's working with the Suns?"

Garrus cocked his head as he scanned the rest of the text, scrutinizing the encrypted lines the thief had included for her contact information. "I doubt it. Everything I've read about her in Bau's files screamed _high-class,_ _lone thief_ to me. Frankly, I'm surprised she even has a partner. Although, the fact that he happens to be a highly trained assassin probably doesn't hurt." He lifted his gaze from the holographic screen and gave Shepard a thoughtful nod. "I think we should give it a try. Not like we're swimming in leads, anyway."

"Yeah. All right." She turned her attention back to her omni-tool and typed in a few lines to initiate the three-way call, and they watched in silence as rows and rows of words and numbers scrolled by on their screens in an impressive display of all the layers of encryption they had to go through just to ping the thief.

It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, but it seemed as though an eternity had passed before a cooing voice finally filled the room. "Commander Shepard! Detective Vakarian! How _nice_ of you to call."

Shepard leaned forward, the corners of her lips turned down in a frown. She had no patience for Kasumi Goto's playful bullshit right now. "You said you had some information about Spectre Bau."

The thief sighed dramatically. "Ouch. Not even a hello, how are you, I've missed you. That really hurts."

Shepard waved an impatient hand through the air, even though only Garrus could see it. "Cut the crap, Goto. What's your info?"

"And what is it going to cost us?" Garrus added, mandibles clenched tight and stiff against his face. Shepard gave him a nod of agreement. She'd been wondering about that, too.

"Not a thing."

The turian raised a brow plate. "Somehow, I find that hard to believe."

"I don't blame you." Kasumi huffed out a husky chuckle. "I don't normally give out free information—especially not to my adversaries. But… the thing is, I like Bau. He gives me a challenge. Keeps my skills sharp. And I'd hate for something to happen to him. Life would be a bit more... boring without our little games."

Shepard shook her head, eyes rolling up at the ceiling. Games. _Right_. She doubted Bau would call his efforts to capture his elusive target child's play. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "Let's say we believe you. What do you have?"

"Just enough to get you started. I have reliable data telling me that last night he was taken out of the Widow System and, this morning, whatever ship he was on, it went through the relay in Sigurd's Cradle."

"And you know this, how?" Garrus asked.

There was a moment of silence before the thief cleared her throat and began to talk again. "I… might have put a tracking program on his omni-tool."

Shepard's mouth dropped open. "You, what? How? When?"

Garrus glared at the screen hovering above his left arm, looking like there was nothing he wanted to do more than reach through it and grab Kasumi Goto by the throat. "Why?" he demanded, his free hand tightening into a hard fist.

Kasumi giggled. "Oh, my goodness. So many questions!" She paused for a dramatic few seconds before she went on, her voice colored by smug amusement. "Let's just say that I was planning a trip… _somewhere_ , and didn't fancy a repeat of Bekenstein. No offense, I really enjoyed our time together and all, but sometimes a girl just wants to do things on her own. So… I wanted to know where Bau—and, by extension, the two of you—would be at a certain time. As for the how, well, that's quite a fun story."

Through the tiny speakers, they could hear the sound of footsteps and of fabric sliding against fabric, and some kind of material, probably some smooth leather, creaking. Shepard guessed Kasumi had sat down on a chair or a couch to make herself comfortable, and she reached up with her gloved hand and rubbed her temple, wondering exactly how long this story was going to take.

As it turned out, it took quite a while. She and Garrus listened, brows raised and jaws slack, as the thief described in cheery detail how she'd hacked into the messages between Bau and his housekeeper and made sure that there would be no fresh food waiting for the Spectre when he got home, how she'd purchased and prepared a box of fancy salarian delicacy—' _candied beetles, if you can believe it; I'd never touch the stuff myself, but who am I to judge; maybe the best ramen would seem disgusting to them, who knows'_ —and got it delivered to his apartment after their arrival on the Citadel, and how she'd planted a " _cute little program_ " in the holo chip she'd included with the parcel.

"I knew he was going to scan the box," Kasumi said with an amused laugh, "and as soon as he did, the program downloaded itself onto his omni-tool."

Garrus clicked his mandibles, his brow plates pulled low above his eyes, as he mulled over the thief's confession. "So this… virus tracks his whereabouts? Can it pinpoint his exact location?"

"Not quite. The program only pings the nearest mass relay to let me know which system he's in. I made some other arrangements to alert me of his precise location in case we were actually on the same planet, but we'd need to be pretty close to each other for that scan to work. At least a few hundred feet."

Shepard shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. No wonder Bau had been after this woman for so many years. She might have looked and acted harmless, but she sure had one devious mind. Pair that with her awe-inspiring skills, and you had one of the most dangerous criminals in the galaxy on your hands. "What's this scan?" she asked. "Could we use it to find him?"

Kasumi paused for a moment before she answered. "Well… I hate to give out all my trade secrets, but… all right. _Just for you_. Remember the box of candy I sent him? Besides the usual ingredients, they also included a… special substance that I applied to the wrappers and injected into the beetles as well. It gives off a certain signature."

"How long would this signature last?" Garrus asked. "And what if he didn't eat this stuff?"

"Yes, that was definitely a risk," Kasumi admitted. "But I was pretty sure that, sooner or later, he would come to handle the thing. If not to eat the candy, then at least to examine the packaging. The compound would stick to his skin and be traceable for a couple of weeks if he just touched the wrappers; if he actually ate a piece, it would stay in his system for about a month. I'm going to send you the frequency to scan for. Don't worry, no virus this time." She chuckled, and there was that creaking sound again as she must have fidgeted on whatever furniture she was sitting on. "Good luck. I hope you find him."

The line went dead, leaving a pregnant, stunned silence behind, until Shepard's and Garrus's omni-tools chimed with a new message. It was the frequency Kasumi had promised, together with a small code to implement for the scanning.

Wasting no time, the commander started up an in-depth security analysis of the files. "Do you think she was telling the truth?" she asked, glancing up from her omni-tool once her program had begun running.

"I don't know," Garrus said. "Maybe. We'll see. First thing I'm going to do, though, is pull every single line of this code apart."

Shepard nodded, and they set to work without another word. The results turned out to be good: as far as they could tell, Kasumi's little scanning program was, indeed, harmless. That was reassuring, although whether or not they could actually make use of it during their investigation and search remained to be seen. But first, they needed to find a planet or a ship or a space station, or at least the general vicinity of Bau's exact whereabouts.

They already had the list of possible ships the Blue Suns might have used to get the Spectre off the Citadel—it had arrived this evening. The number, however, was in the dozens, which wasn't really surprising, given the extremely high traffic an enormous station like the Citadel conducted every day. Now, with this new information about the relays Bau had been taken through, they could actually narrow the field down; all they needed was to run a cross-check between the transponder codes of the ships leaving the Citadel and the ones arriving in Sigurd's Cradle during this specific time.

Unfortunately, that task required something they didn't have: access to the data, and the computing power to run the search. Lucky, then, that they knew someone who could help.

"Chellick's not gonna be happy," Garrus murmured as he fired off a message to his friend.

Shepard shot him a crooked smile. "Tell him you'll get him a souvenir." She turned off her omni-tool and, with a weary sigh, stood up from the table and headed towards the refrigerator. "Let's eat and go to bed. I'll contact T'Soni in the morning, once we have a ship name she can dig up some information about."

 

* * *

Shepard tossed the disposable container with the remainder of her macaroni and cheese (all three molecules of it) into the trash compactor. The Council's money had been absolutely well spent; she wasn't exactly what you'd call a connoisseur of gourmet food, but she did know when something tasted good, and _this_ had definitely hit the mark.

Turning away from the counter with a content sigh, she patted her full belly. "That clerk at Zakera Café sure knows his stuff," she said. "I think I might have just found my favorite store on the Citadel. Don't tell Etarn, though."

"Etarn?"

"From Rodam Expeditions." She folded her arms and leaned back on one hip, her lips curling up into a teasing smirk. "The place where you stole the thermal mod from me."

Garrus laughed. "Not my fault you were too slow." His expression suddenly changed and he shuffled his feet, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away for a moment before he glanced back at her from the corner of his eye. "So… what are the, ah, sleeping arrangements going to be?"

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

Garrus's mandibles fluttered. He looked awkward, uncertain, and utterly adorable (who would have ever thought that one day she'd find that cocky, annoying turian from the bar _adorable_?) as he fidgeted under her gaze. "Where do you want to, uh, sleep?"

Oh. _Oh_. They'd been so busy dealing with all the preparations and the stocking up and the cataloguing of the supplies that they hadn't looked at the sleeping quarters yet. Their bags still lay on the floor in the mess hall where they'd dumped them when they'd come on board, waiting to be taken to whichever room they were going to choose to stay in.

And there were plenty of choices, too; according to the ship's specifications, the _Blue Nebula_ _RX-2_ was a bit bigger than the _Inandra,_ retrofitted to cater to as many possible clients and purposes as possible, sporting not only the usual crew quarters with bunk beds and a captain's suite with a small, private bath, but also three separate rooms as well, each equipped with a single bed.

Shepard grinned. So, _that_ was what Garrus was on about. Well," she said, dropping her hands at her side and taking a step forward, "as far as I'm concerned, there are two COs on this ship. It would only be fair if they shared the captain's cabin, don't you think?"

Garrus released a relieved chuckle and reached out for her, pulling her into a tight hug. "Definitely. That would be my choice, too. I just didn't want to presume."

She wound her arms around his neck and raised herself onto her toes to plant a small kiss on his mandible before she slid out of his embrace and picked up her bag. "Let's go find our room, then."

 

* * *

The captain's quarters was at the end of a short hallway. True to the multi-purpose nature of the vessel, it was equipped well enough to be suitable both for a shipping company officer and for a leisure traveler, with a good sized bed, two built-in cabinets, a desk with a computer terminal, and a small sitting area.

Shepard left her equipment on one of the chairs for now, too tired to bother organizing them and putting them away at the moment, and proceeded to strip out of her armor. She'd been wearing it since this morning, when they'd gone looking for Bau, and, as comfortable as it was, she was glad to finally be out of it.

"I'm going to take a shower. You're welcome to join me, if you want," she said as she headed to the bathroom, throwing a wink over her shoulder.

Garrus's hand froze in the air, forgetting the rifle he was about to deposit in one of the drawers, and he looked up, following her with his gaze. "I just might."

Shepard swayed her hips (seductively, she hoped) as she sashayed through the door, and smiled when her ears caught the by-now-familiar rumble that emanated from Garrus's chest.

 

* * *

The bath was nice and, surprisingly, the shower seemed to be big enough to fit two people but, after a few minutes of scrubbing and rinsing and standing idly under the warm sprays, Shepard had to come to the realization that she was going to be its only occupant.

It was disappointing, and maybe a little hurtful (all right, so maybe more than a little), but she tried not to take Garrus's absence too personally. Perhaps something came up; a message or a lead or something else. Still, she couldn't quite chase away the frown on her face and the downward curve of her lips as she finally turned off the water and dried herself, wrapping her body in the thick towel she'd found on the rack.

She walked back into their room, expecting to find him absorbed in some kind of task, but stopped short as soon as her gaze fell on the bed. He was half-sitting, half-lying on the mattress, one boot off, the other still in his hand, eyes closed and mandibles fluttering with each inhale and exhale as he snored and snorted gently in his sleep.

Shepard's eyes softened and her chest filled with affection. Her hurt forgotten, she tiptoed to her bag and pulled out a tee-shirt and a pair of shorts and put them on, spreading the damp towel over the back of one of the chairs, and crept over to the bed as quietly as she could.

Trying not to wake him, she carefully removed the boots from his hand and placed them on the floor, then straightened up and surveyed Garrus's state of undress. He'd gotten as far as taking off all the armor pieces above his waist and collecting them in a neat pile in an empty corner of the room, but he still had the rest of his armor on. It wasn't going to be easy to remove them, but she wasn't about to let him sleep in all that uncomfortable metal, so she set to work looking for the latches for each individual piece.

Her lower lip sucked in between her teeth, she poked and prodded and popped every seal open she could find, and after some struggle, she managed to peel off the rest of Garrus's armor. He must have been exhausted, for he barely moved during the whole process, merely snorting and batting at an invisible hand a few times in his sleep.

By the time she finally managed to turn him on his side and tuck him under the blanket, Shepard was ready to collapse onto the mattress herself. She crawled under the covers on the other side of the bed, turned off the light switch by the side table, and went to sleep as soon as her head had touched her pillow.

It seemed like it was only a short time later, though a quick glance at the holo clock confirmed that, in reality, two hours had passed, that she was awakened by an arm wrapping itself around her body and a tough, plated chest pressing into her back.

"Shepard," Garrus murmured, pulling her closer.

"Yeah?" she said with a yawn, but he didn't answer. Instead, he buried his face in her shoulder and nipped at her neck.

"Mmm. Yeah. Just like that," he mumbled, the words slurred and barely audible, as he ground his groin against her backside. He was unsheathed and hard as a rock, which would have been exciting, if not for the fact that it was the middle of the damn night, and, apparently, he was still asleep.

Shepard nudged him with her elbow, trying to wake him up, but he just held her that much tighter.

She sighed, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, but then his fingers drifted up and took hold of a handful of breast and he _squeezed_ , and her body decided to go for _turned on_.

"Garrus," she croaked, her throat suddenly dry. "Garrus!"

He finally startled awake. "Hmm? Yes?"

She laughed. "I appreciate you dry humping me even while you're asleep, but I think I'd prefer it if you were awake for this."

Garrus was silent for a long moment, and she could just imagine the confused expression on his face, the gears behind his eyes churning furiously until the fog in his brain cleared up. "Shit. Sorry."

He tried to pull away, but she didn't let him. She reached behind her and grabbed his hip, holding him firmly in place. "No running away after winding me up so nicely, Mister."

Garrus chuckled and pressed up against her again. She could feel his keel bone digging into her spine, but right now, she couldn't be bothered to care. "Oh? I'm so…" he hooked a finger into the top of her shirt and dragged it down her shoulder, exposing her skin to him, and ran a warm tongue from the crook of her neck up to that sensitive spot behind her ear, " _so_ sorry."

Shepard sucked in a sharp, shaky breath. "Keep doing that, and I'll forgive you."

He hummed a small laugh into her shoulder, his breath fanning out in a rush of hot air across her moistened pores, and Shepard shivered, eyes squeezed closed and teeth biting into her lip, as he nipped and laved and teased every square inch of skin on her neck, her shoulder, her collar bone. Eventually, his hand skimmed down her arm, leaving the opening of her shirt behind, then wandered around her front, and she trembled, her breath hitching, as he drew a careful talon over her hardened nipple, then around and around the stiff peak in tight circles, until his hand settled over the swell of her breast and cupped it gently.

"I really like this," he whispered into her ear. "I never thought I would, but yeah. I do."

Shepard wanted to reply, but her throat was too tight, so she stroked his leg behind her instead.

Even through the fabric of his undersuit, she could feel a slight twitch beneath the pads of her fingers as she traced a path down his hip and his outer thigh, then back up again. She grinned happily when he rumbled out a growl in response, and nearly choked out a startled gasp herself when he reached down, lifted her upper thigh, and pushed his knee in between her legs.

The friction alone made her groin tighten in pleasure, but then he let go of her leg and slid his hand to her front again, drawing a lazy finger from the top of her shorts down to her heated core, and she almost head-butted him as she threw her head back with a moan.

She could feel his other hand burrow underneath her body and come around to cradle her chest, holding her tight and massaging her breast, as he caressed her seam through the fabric once, twice, three times, before his hand wormed its way up and under the elastic of her pants and drifted down her naked stomach to the apex between her legs. His name spilled forth from her throat in a raspy groan as he dipped a knuckle in between her folds, spreading the slick moisture around, and circled the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top with the pad of a finger.

Eyes fluttering closed and her breath coming in shallow, shaky bursts, Shepard clung to his leg, short fingernails digging into his hide through his pants as he stroked her, alternating between slow and gentle and hard and fast, coming around in an arc one moment, then dipping down in a line the next. She tried not to buck into his hand, but she lost the battle when he pressed a finger into her warm depths, and she whimpered, unable to stifle the sounds coming out of her throat, and her hips moved on their own volition to meet his thrusts.

"Let it go," Garrus rumbled in her ear, and damn if the vibration of his voice didn't add to the pleasure coiling up in her belly. "Come for me. _Jane_."

Shepard's breath hitched, her body going rigid for a moment, and she cried out as the pressure in her groin exploded and spread out, like fireworks in the sky, in shuddering waves.

Garrus slowed down his motions, but didn't stop until her aftershocks had subsided. Once she'd gone limp, he turned her onto her back and pressed his forehead against hers, purring happily, before he slid down her body, tucked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, and, with her help, drew them down her legs.

"You have some lotion?" he asked, his voice rough, as he trailed tender talons along her inner thighs.

Shepard raised herself up onto her elbows. "It's… It's… Ugh, I left it on the kitchen counter." She sat up, ready to stagger out into the mess, but Garrus was already on his way.

"I'll get it."

He was out the door and back in the room in less than ten seconds. Shepard smothered a grin at his eagerness, and took the bottle from him to spread the thick cream onto her thighs while he stripped out of his undersuit. He climbed over her when she was done, plucked the lotion from her hand and deposited it on the side table, and bent down to touch his mouth to hers.

His tongue swept in when she parted her lips, and she kissed him back, looping her arms around his neck, trailing gentle fingers across the sensitive scales just below his fringe. She thought she could feel his pulse beating wildly beneath his skin—or was it her own blood rushing in her veins as her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest?

She couldn't hold back a sad little whine when he pulled back, hungry for air, but her disappointment evaporated and turned into a breathy moan when he settled down between her legs and pressed his hips into hers.

"Shepard," he groaned, tucking his head into her neck as he brushed his erection against her opening.

" _Jane_. I... ungh... liked it when you called me _Jane_."

Garrus ran his tongue along her collarbone, and pushed into her in one smooth motion. _"Jane."_

Shepard's head sank into her pillow as a sharp exhale erupted from her throat and her spine arced off the bed. Garrus stilled and lifted his head to look at her, but before he could say something or, god forbid, retreat, she grabbed his bony little ass and rolled her hips against his.

He groaned, dropped his head down again to nuzzle her throat, and started moving. He still felt a little strange, not quite the same as a human, but it was also so, so, wonderful, as he pulled back and slid in again, then again and again, slow and steady at first as he eased her into the rhythm, and increasing in strength and speed as she met his thrusts and bucked up against him.

"Is this... all right?" he asked, subvocals low and strained, between two strokes. "I'm not hurting you?"

Shepard bit into her lower lip, and smiled through the tiny tear drops suddenly prickling the corners of her eyes, and the surge of emotion swelling up in her chest. It had been a while—quite a while—since anybody had cared so much for her well-being. _Sincerely_ cared.

She reached up and ran her fingers along his mandibles. "No. You feel... incredible."

He bowed his head and touched his brow against hers with a pleased growl, and she held on, digging her fingernails into his soft hide as he intensified his pace.

The lotion definitely helped; he still felt solid and a bit rough against her, but her skin glided effortlessly along his plates as he plunged in deeper and deeper, faster and faster. She clenched around him unconsciously, raking her fingers down his arms and his carapace, barely able to hear his moans over the blood pounding in her ears as she raised and pushed and surged her pelvis against him in tandem with his thrusts.

Remembering how good it had felt when she did it last time, she lifted her thighs and draped them around his waist and squeezed tight, and he growled a deep, rumbling sound that she could feel vibrate and resonate through her own body. He reached under her bottom with one hand, holding himself up on his other arm, angled her higher, and drove into her with a ferocity that she couldn't dream to match anymore.

She clawed at his back, scrambling for purchase as he pushed her towards the edge, feeling the tension build and build and build in her belly until that tight coil finally snapped. Her body bowed off the bed as she came with a cry, toes curling, her inner muscles pulsing and clamping down hard enough to drag Garrus along with her as well. His movements suddenly erratic, his hips jerked as he threw his head back and roared, burying himself inside her to the hilt through his climax.

Through gasping breaths, Shepard smiled up at him, stroking his forearms as he came down from his high, until he let go of her hip and collapsed onto his elbows above her.

Eyes closed and chest heaving with large, desperate gulps of air, Garrus dropped his head down and touched their foreheads together before he took hold of her shoulders and rolled both of them on their sides. She snuggled in next to him, her head tucked under his chin, her arm around his waist, and they lay limp and sated, limbs tangled around each other, until Garrus opened his eyes and peered down at her.

"Did we take a shower last night?"

Shepard laughed. "I did. You were a no-show."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I was going to—"

She shook her head. "It's okay. You were tired. I tucked you into bed." She paused, then ran her fingernails down his back, and smirked when he let out a purring growl. She looked up. "But there's always another time. We need to clean up anyway."

Garrus carded his fingers through her hair, spreading it out over the pillow. "Sounds good. Let's just rest a little first."

"All right."

They closed their eyes and held onto each other, and fell asleep in five seconds.


	25. Chasing Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to those of you who've been waiting for this update. Real-life stresses, some other projects (check out the [Badass Weekly](http://mordinette.deviantart.com/art/Badass-Weekly-602988516) cover I did for Garrus and Shepard for Tumblr's Mass Effect Appreciation Week), and the lack of time made it hard to work on this chapter. To be honest, the fact that so many people seem to have lost interest in this story didn't really help my motivation either. Thank you to those who are still here, reading and commenting.
> 
> It's been a pretty long time since the last update, so here's a little recap of what happened previously: Bau was kidnapped and is now held hostage by the Blue Suns, Vido Santiago's brother hoping to negotiate a prisoner exchange with the Council. The Council is employing some delay tactics while Garrus and Shepard go on an unofficial rescue mission, aided by Kasumi Goto's revelation of her tracking program that she managed to install on the Spectre's omni-tool.
> 
> Big thanks to the wonderful Suilven for beta reading. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

"I can't believe the Blue Suns have the balls to operate a base on Watson." Garrus enabled the autopilot and leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowed at the star chart glowing brightly on the navigational display. "The Alliance is just a short hop away on the moon. You'd think the Suns would be at least a little bit wary of having their asses handed to them if they tried something."

Shepard looked up from the map she'd been studying. She dropped the datapad on her lap and turned her head towards him. "According to Liara, it's not exactly a base. Just an old mine that's officially run under the umbrella of a small company. As long as they pretend that it's a legitimate business, the Alliance can't do anything, so the Suns don't have much to worry about. Plus, they get the protection from the missiles on Franklin against the pirates. If you ask me, they've found a pretty sweet setup for themselves."

"It won't last long if they turn out to be keeping a kidnapped Spectre there."

Shepard nodded. "True." Her gaze hardened and drifted aimlessly through the thick glass of the cockpit window into the star-studded space around them, and she fell silent for a long moment before she spoke again. "I hope he's okay."

Garrus glanced over at her form, relaxed and sprawled out in the co-pilot chair as though she was watching the latest Blasto movie at home, and took a deep breath to keep himself from pushing her feet off of the edge of the console. "I'm sure he's fine. They won't hurt him—they need him alive for the hostage exchange. Besides, he knows how to take care of himself."

Shepard dipped her head in wordless acknowledgement and picked up the datapad from her lap again, turning her attention back to the map Liara had forwarded to them. "Nevertheless, we can't let them know we're coming. We need to land at a safe distance." Her index finger traced a path from their target on the mountaintop through the forest down the hillside, until it came to a stop at a good-sized clearing. "Here. This should work."

Garrus craned his neck to look at her screen, and took the datapad from her outstretched hand when she offered it to him. "Agreed." He entered a few commands into the navigational controls, and checked the computer's readout. "We should be there in about two hours."

 

* * *

Shepard groaned, panting with heavy breaths as she grabbed yet another handful of vines blocking their path, and gave them a hard tug. The vines didn't budge.

"Whose brilliant idea was it to land so far away from the top, anyway?"

Garrus raised his arm, extending his omni-tool's blade to slice through the thick branches above her head. They finally snapped with a sharp crack, allowing her to pull the tangle of limbs down and make a hole big enough for both of them to pass through. "Yours. And I agreed."

Shepard muttered something under her breath that his translator couldn't quite catch, but her body language, as she pressed on with stubborn determination, was enough for him to know that she was not happy. He didn't blame her—neither was he. It was getting late, and the possibility that they might end up having to crawl through this unknown territory in the dark was not something he looked forward to.

The idea of landing far away from their target and cutting through the forest to reach it hadn't been bad—in fact, it was absolutely necessary to keep out of sight and avoid the paved roads if they wanted to catch Bau's keepers by surprise. But planning out their route on the map was one thing; actually making it up the mountainside through the dense vegetation, caves, and abandoned mine shafts, some of them hidden below a thin layer of accumulated dirt and leaves that could collapse under their weight at any moment, was quite another. And that was without the assorted wildlife, some harmless, some incredibly dangerous, that scampered under their feet or stalked them in the underbrush from a small distance.

"Should be easier on the way down," Shepard said, stopping for a moment to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. "There's a maintenance road that leads down from the mine to a nearby settlement. Once we've gotten rid of the guards and rescued Bau, we can take that for a while before we have to veer off for the ship."

Garrus stopped as well, and detached the canteen from his belt. "Want some water?" he asked, offering the bottle to Shepard.

She turned around to look at him but froze half-way, her eyes fixed somewhere above his left shoulder. "Don't move."

Garrus tried his best to resist the urge to snap his head back and see for himself what it was that had captured Shepard's attention. Judging by the sudden crease between her brows and the downward tilt of her mouth as she seemed to contemplate her course of action, it couldn't have been anything good.

His senses on full alert now, he shut out the sound of the rustling leaves in the wind and the calls of the birds up above them, and concentrated on the environment in his immediate vicinity. And there it was: a scraping sound against a tree branch behind him and the smell of something pungent and acrid in the air.

Shepard's hand drifted down to the pistol on her hip. Garrus wasn't sure that was a good idea; they'd managed to stay undetected until now, but a gunshot in this part of the forest, so close to their destination? It was bound to raise some interest.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could utter a word, Shepard changed her mind, lifted her other arm, and tapped a command into her omni-tool.

"Duck," she said, her eyes still focused on that spot behind him, and he obeyed her order without question, dropping down onto his knees even as his hand shot out behind him to snatch the rifle from his back.

Less than a second later, a wave of super-cooled subatomic particles blasted over his head, hitting something solid in the air. There was a soft thump in the undergrowth as Shepard's target hit the ground, and Garrus turned around, raising himself onto his feet, to examine the frozen creature on the ground.

He'd never seen anything like it before: it was long, with a tubular body and three sets of powerful legs that each ended in four really nasty looking, long claws, and its jaws, open and seemingly ready to bite, were packed with two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"What the hell is that?" Garrus asked as he lifted his rifle high in the air and slammed it down on the creature's head, shattering its skull, fangs and all, into a thousand jagged little pieces.

"No idea. Seemed like it was about to pounce on your back and take a bite out of your neck, though."

"Well," Garrus grunted, stomping on the remains of his would-be attacker, just to make sure it was really, unequivocally dead, "thanks for saving my neck. Literally."

Shepard's lips quirked into a grin, and she nudged her head at the path still ahead of them. "Anytime. C'mon, let's get going. I think we're almost there."

 

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of the climb was uneventful, and they made it to the top without being devoured by a vicious predator or swallowed up by the earth from falling down an old mine shaft.

There were no guards at the entrance to the Blue Suns facility, but they did find something interesting on a nearby landing pad: a medium sized ship, its transponder code a perfect match to the one they had traced from the Citadel to Sigurd's Cradle, and, with Liara's help, to Watson.

"I doubt Bau's still on board," Garrus said, keeping his voice low, as he scanned the ship and its surroundings through his rifle's scope. "He's probably hidden away somewhere deep in the mine by now."

Shepard gave him a quick nod, her gaze fixed on the vessel up ahead. "Agreed. But we should check it out anyway. I'm not about to risk an attack from the rear once we're inside the building. Wouldn't hurt to disable the engines either—just in case Bau's guards manage to get out before we catch up with them and try take off with him."

"Good plan."

They circled around through the bushes, keeping out of sight as long as they could, and approached the ship from the back. Shepard hacked into the airlock door, and in less than a minute, they were on board.

The ship turned out to be empty.

That, in itself, wasn't a surprise. No need to have a parked ship manned unless you were making repairs or getting ready for a trip. What _was_ unexpected, though, was the spent heat sinks scattered on the floor and the blood stains spread out in intricate patterns in the cockpit and engineering.

"It's relatively new," Garrus said, bending down to examine the red liquid, still tacky, that had pooled behind the pilot's chair. "Looks like someone was shot, collapsed here, then crawled over to the door." He glanced up, catching Shepard's eyes. "I don't think that Bau was hurt," he added. "There's no green blood anywhere. I'm pretty sure he's the one who caused all this damage. Maybe he managed to escape—or at least tried to."

Shepard shook her head. "I think the operative word is 'tried.' If he'd escaped, he would have contacted us by now." She took a step towards the door, but came to a stop when her gaze fell on a datapad lying by the wall. She picked it up, turned the display on, and chewed on her lower lip as she read the last message the pilot had received. "Hmm."

"What?"

"They were rendezvousing with another ship here." She raised her eyes from the text and flicked them over to Garrus. "Delivering some _special cargo_."

Garrus's mandibles fluttered in agitation. "Dammit. They might have taken Bau somewhere else. Brought him here on one ship, made the switch, and whisked him away to another location to throw off their scent. Seen that tactic dozens of times in C-Sec. I should have thought of that."

Shepard gave him a long look as she considered this new scenario. "He might still be in a holding cell in _this_ facility. We need to make sure."

"Yeah." Garrus walked over to the navigation control, locked down the system with an encrypted code, and detached his rifle from its holster on his back. "Let's go."

 

* * *

The security code to unlock the mine's entry door was a much harder nut to crack. It took them several minutes and a whole string of curses neither of them had heard from each other before to disable the encryption and slide the thick metal panels open.

After all that noise, and especially the indignant beeps the control panel had thrown at them every time they'd gone down the wrong coding path, Garrus could only imagine the welcome committee awaiting them once they were able to push through; yet, when they finally made it inside, they found the first chamber, just like the ship, utterly devoid of life.

The room was smallish, with just a few computer terminals pushed up against the walls and a wide path in the middle for moving equipment or cargo, but it led to a much larger central hall, packed with crates of varying sizes, with a few more doors around its perimeter.

This part of the facility turned out to be significantly better guarded. The whole place came alive, red lights flashing, alarms blaring, as soon as they'd entered, and when they failed to provide the passcode an overhead, automated voice demanded, the room suddenly filled with a small battalion of LOKI mechs that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

Shepard launched herself behind one of the crates, and Garrus did the same, taking up position a few feet away from her, his back to the wall and his rifle's barrel peeking out from between two large containers.

"Careful," the first LOKI to come into range politely said as it floated up into the air, glowing a cheery blue inside the biotic field Shepard had hurled its way. Garrus sent a precise shot into its head, and the mech's lights fizzled out, its body crashing to the floor in a bundle of inert metal.

The next wave rounded the corner just as their brethren's self-destruct went off, taking every one of them with it in a fiery ball of explosions. Hard plastic, synthetic limbs, and torn cables rained down in a wide circle, ripping into the storage boxes around them and tearing deep, jagged gashes into the containers' tops and sides.

The smoke hadn't even cleared yet when another group emerged from the same direction, firing incessantly as they marched towards Shepard and Garrus's location.

Shepard activated her tech armor and popped up from behind her hiding spot to toss a tangle of energy at the mechs, overloading their shields and making them stagger. Exploiting the temporary reprieve, she unloaded an entire clip from her SMG into them, and Garrus joined in, taking out as many as he could with his own well-placed shots. It didn't take long before the area was clear again, the sudden silence only interrupted by the buzzing static from the remains of the security bots—until _that_ stopped, too.

Garrus waited, his scope trained on the junction the mechs had come from, but there was no more movement, no metallic clank of advancing feet on the floor, no more warning messages coming forth in the familiar robotic voice.

He lifted his gaze and glanced over at Shepard. Something was not right here. Employing a squad of security bots was nothing unusual; but where were the living, breathing members of the Blue Suns? Why had they not encountered any of them yet? Not just soldiers; if this was a mine, where were all the workers? His stomach twisted as he considered the possibility that they'd escaped through a secret exit, taking Bau with them—if he _had been_ here to begin with. They needed to get a move on; even if the kidnappers were unable to get the ship off the ground without the systems he and Shepard had sabotaged, they could still get a significant head start that would make catching up with them difficult, especially in this heavily forested area.

He was about to say something when Shepard rose from her spot behind the crates, and gave a signal to move out. Garrus nodded and left his cover, gun raised, and crept after her, sparing a quick look at one of the boxes that had been torn open by the blast.

Its contents, spilling out in a tangled mess on the floor, was _not_ a cargo of minerals: the container had been packed with weapons and mods and some mystery tech he didn't even recognize. Most likely illegal, and highly profitable, whatever they were.

He would have loved to take a closer look, but this was not the time; he could already hear a soft whirring sound from up ahead as a few more LOKIs honed in on their direction and began making their way towards them.

There were more than enough shipping crates to take cover behind, but with her tech armor still activated, Shepard didn't bother. She marched ahead, emptying another clip from her SMG into their midst, and Garrus cursed, ignoring the enemy shots rippling across his own shields as he took up position to the side and sent a volley of fire into the group.

After a few seconds and another explosion, the room fell silent again.

"I think that was the last of them," Shepard said, lowering her gun.

Garrus scanned the room, searching for heat signatures. There were none. There were, however, three more doors that they had no idea what lay behind.

He nudged his rifle at the closest one. "All right. Let's check the rest of this place out."

 

* * *

The first two rooms held nothing more than some empty lockers, a few abandoned beds, and a small, run-down kitchen. The third one, even larger than the central chamber, confirmed what Garrus had been suspecting since he'd caught sight of the contents of that exploded container: this was no mine. Not anymore. The rusted machinery left to rot at the far end, right next to an apparent cave-in, and the deep gauges in the walls, methodically inflicted by perhaps the same equipment during better years, bore witness to the facility's obvious past of industrial-sized mineral extraction; at the present, however, the rest of the space was filled with rows and rows of boxes and crates, making it abundantly clear that this old mine had an entirely new role now as a storage vault for smuggled goods.

"Looks like this is the end of the line." Shepard turned around in a circle, her eyes still searching the rock walls around them. "I don't see any exits other than the door we've come through. So, our original assessment was correct: the Suns only came here to rendezvous with that other ship, transfer Bau, and take him someplace else."

Garrus glanced away from his scope and straightened his back, relaxing his grip on his rifle's stock. Not finding Bau was disappointing, but at least the Suns hadn't just slipped out, taking the salarian—and the knowledge of their attempted rescue mission—with them. "If nothing else, it's good to know they haven't been in here," he said. "Which means, they don't know that we're coming. We can still catch them by surprise when we find them."

"Well, I got the second ship's name from the pilot's datapad, but if they keep moving him around like this…" Shepard's lips pursed into a grimace. "It might take a while to track them down." She raked her fingers through her hair and shook her head. "Well. I hope Liara will have some info for us. We could also give another call to Kasumi Goto. Find out if she's received any more hits from Bau's omni-tool."

Garrus made a low growl in the back of his throat. "That… might not be a bad idea. As much as I hate asking for help from a criminal, she _has_ been helpful so far. Let's hope we won't regret our little liaison with her."

"Yeah." Shepard nodded, her gaze slipping down to the crate in front of her. She stepped closer and tapped her index finger on the shipping manifest attached to the top. "What a shock. More high-tech weapons. Legitimate business, my ass."

What a shock, indeed. Garrus's mandibles clicked against his face as he huffed out a derisive snort. "I bet your Alliance would just love to find out what's been going on here under their noses."

Shepard waved a hand. "Already planning on sending in a report. Requisitions is gonna have a field day with all this stuff. I don't even know what half of these things are. _Corsus PL5000_? _Minagen X3_? Ever heard of these? Are they some new mods?"

Garrus tilted his head. That… _Minagen_ thing sounded familiar. He was sure he'd heard that name before, he just couldn't quite put his finger on where. But, what did it matter? Whatever that stuff was, it wasn't the reason why they'd come here. As far as he was concerned, they were done with this place and it was time to leave.

"I don't know," he said, turning towards the door and taking a few steps. "What I do know is that we should get back to the ship before it gets dark. I'd rather not become dinner to the local wildlife, if you don't mind."

"Hang on. I want to take a look."

Garrus sighed. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder to find Shepard bent over the crate, her fingers poking at the encryption code on the lock—as two YMIR mechs slowly unfolded themselves at the far end of the room.

_Oh, shit._

 

* * *

"I hate these things!" Shepard's voice boomed over the cacophony of the gunfire and the mechs' rocket blasts.

Garrus spared a peek at his teammate crouched behind the crate she'd been examining just a few seconds ago. "I know. I'm not a fan, either," he grunted into his comm unit, poking his head up long enough from his own hiding place to send a bullet into the hard chassis of the mech targeting his location. It made a small dent, but otherwise had no effect on the cursed machine's stubborn assault. Chunks of metal flew over Garrus's head and bit into the containers behind his back as the mech kept advancing, sending blast after blast into the boxes surrounding his position.

Whether by chance or by design, the other mech kept Shepard occupied, concentrating its fire on her spot on the other side of the room. Garrus could hear her occasional shouts as she launched biotic energy at her opponent, and the ratatat of her SMG as she peppered the machine with her bullets, but he had no way of lending her assistance; he had his own hands full with the hunk of metal thundering closer and closer, intent on blasting him to smithereens.

He wished she hadn't been so nosy and they'd left while they still could. Now, the only way to get out of this situation was either to blow these things to hell or be blown to bits by _them_ ; whatever sadistic security system the Suns had set up here, it had locked the door behind them as soon as the YMIRs had activated, and they were left trapped, fighting for their lives—and for what? Some stupid mods Shepard just had to take a peek at?

Annoyed beyond measure, Garrus jumped up and sent an overload into the electrical system of the mech, intending to follow up with a precise headshot into its most vulnerable part. The mech staggered, but what Garrus saw from the corner of his eye nearly froze him to the ground, costing him precious seconds to accomplish his plan.

The crate that had been serving as Shepard's cover had exploded. That alone wouldn't have been too bad; apparently, she'd managed to move on to the next one without the loss of any of her limbs. Her position, however, was shrouded in a thick, red cloud—a cloud she was not able to escape; not with the insistent fire she was under from her own synthetic enemy from hell.

Garrus ducked back down just in time to avoid a rocket blast to his face, but his heart was suddenly in his throat not for his own safety, but for his human's.

He remembered now. He remembered what _Minagen X3_ was and what it could do. He'd witnessed its devastation when an Eclipse squad had gotten their hands on a shipment from an unscrupulous dealer in the Lower Wards.

He tapped on his comm device, hopeful that Shepard was going to hear him over the deafening noise in this confined space.

"Shepard!" he yelled, trying to keep an eye on both her and the mech still advancing on his own location. "You need to get away from that cloud. It's toxic. Get out of there _now_!"

"Would love to!" she shouted back, launching another warp at her opponent. "If only this asshole would stop shooting!"

Garrus growled in exasperation. Helping her out, as desperate as he was to do just that, was not an option as long as he was under assault by his own tormentor. Not being keen on dying like that was just one reason; leaving _her_ with two YMIRs to deal with was another, even more important one.

He prepared another overload, maxing out its power output, and leaned out of cover to launch it at his target. The mech came to a screeching halt, spasming as electrical sparks danced across its metal frame. This time, Garrus didn't waste his opportunity. He aimed, fired, and blew the faceplate straight off. The mech shuddered, then exploded, sending pieces of its hard shell flying in all directions.

Garrus dropped back down, waiting for the shower of synthetic parts to die down, and peered over at Shepard's location. She was barely visible inside the red mist surrounding her body but, apparently, the mech barreling towards her and sending a barrage of weapons fire at her spot had no trouble picking her out. Garrus could just make out the glow of her biotic field surrounding her like a shimmering veil as she tried to stand up and send out a volley of bullets of her own, but it didn't take long before she had to take cover again.

The machine's obsession with its target, at least, gave Garrus the opportunity to finally do something about the situation. He stood up, took aim, and fired. The mech's shields fizzled, but they absorbed the impact. Something changed, however. The mechanical monstrosity turned its head in Garrus's direction, and it raised its arm, preparing a rocket as retaliation.

Even as he ducked back down, Garrus could see the bright white and orange blaze coming at his direction and Shepard's radiant body jumping up from her cover. She roared—roared louder than he had ever thought possible—and threw an incredibly powerful wave of biotic energy at their enemy.

The whole room shook as the mech exploded, and the rocket hit the crates at Garrus's back at the same time. For a few long moments, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear, but he could certainly feel the shrapnel hammering his shields, wearing them down, and when they finally gave out, tearing into his armor. There was a sharp pain in his left calf and his right upper arm, and he was pretty sure the wetness suddenly invading his undersuit and soaking it through was blood.

When his vision cleared, he took a look, pulled out the metal shards with a hiss, and smeared some medi-gel into his wounds. The pain receded, and he stood up, searching for Shepard in the smoke.

"Shepard!" he called out, but there was no answer.

His stomach twisted and his throat went dry, and he set out, limping, towards the spot she'd been before.

He found her on her back, eyes closed, arms stretched out to the side, her entire body engulfed in a glistening aura of blue energy.

Garrus gasped out her name and dropped down by her side. "Shepard. Are you all right?"

She slowly opened her eyes and slid them up to his face. "Garrus. You okay?"

He couldn't hold back a relieved sigh. "I'm fine. Let's get out of here."

"Okay." She closed her eyes, and didn't move.

Garrus gathered her up, trying to make her stand, but her knees buckled and she collapsed into his arms. The blast had blown some of the red mist away, but there was still enough of it in the air to start burning his nasal passages. He had no desire to let both of them succumb to the toxin's effects now, so he picked Shepard up and headed towards the door, hopeful that the clear air would make her come around.

He put her down on a crate long enough to unlock the door, then lifted up her body again, cradling her close to his chest, and walked out.

Shepard didn't wake up until they were almost at the facility's entrance door.

"Garrus," she croaked, flattening the palm of her hand against the side of his face. "You're beautiful."

Her speech was slurred and her irises had nearly disappeared, swallowed up by her enlarged pupils, and Garrus's heart almost broke in half as he smiled down at her, her body still limp in his arms.

"So are you."

She closed her eyes and drifted off again, and he pressed his forehead to hers for a moment before he stepped out into the night.

He had a ship to find.

In the dark.


	26. There for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and bookmarks, and special thanks for the lovely comments - I appreciate them all. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.

If there was one thing Garrus remembered in vivid detail from the scarce amount of information he'd been able to gather about Watson before they'd landed on the planet, it was the stories about the vicious-looking predators that tended to come out at night. In packs.

Apparently, the wildlife experts were still waging heated debates about their classification and, consequently, their scientific name, but locals simply called these monsters "beasts." In Garrus's opinion, that designation was richly deserved: from the illustrations he'd been able to pull up on the extranet, these creatures had incredibly powerful shoulders and front legs, large mouths with sizable, razor sharp teeth that also happened to be filled with venom, and feet with claws that could rip a smaller human in half.

Garrus desperately hoped not to encounter any of these things as he headed out from the Blue Suns facility in search of the path that would lead him to their ship.

Despite the heavy clouds that must have gathered in the last couple of hours and now blanketed the sky, blocking out most of the light from the moon and the stars, finding the service road Shepard had talked about was not too difficult. And, as she'd suggested, traveling on the pavement, clear of gnarly trees and dense bushes, was much easier than their way up the hill had been. Everything seemed calm and quiet, except for the loud chirping of some unknown insects in the grass and the rustling of the leaves in the sudden wind that had begun blowing in from the west.

It wasn't easy to keep checking their coordinates with Shepard in his arms, but Garrus did his best to keep track of where they were and where he needed to veer off into the forest.

According to his map, they still had a way to go before he'd reach the point he needed to get off the road when he first noticed the glowing eyes in the dark.

They were on the opposite side from his eventual direction, still a distance away. He hoped that whatever the creature was, it had not noticed him and his precious cargo yet. Intending to keep it that way, he slunk into the forest, hoping to blend into the shadows. It was a little early to do so, but if he had to choose between fighting an unknown predator while weighted down with his unconscious teammate, or finding his way through a slightly modified path, he'd pick the latter anytime.

Things went rather well for a while. Walking as quietly as he could, he made his way through the vegetation, checking and adjusting his direction every few minutes. Shepard stirred a few times, groaning with untold pain, but didn't open her eyes. He was starting to believe that they were actually going to make it without much trouble when his ears picked up the sound of careful steps around them.

They were slow and deliberate, but there was no mistaking the small cracks of twigs in the underbrush. Soon, he could see those same glowing eyes again: not one pair, or two, but at least half a dozen, if not more, spread out in a circle in the dark.

Outrunning them was not an option. He had to fight.

Gently, he lowered Shepard's body to the ground and stood guard above her as he detached his assault rifle. Sniping would have been more precise, but there was no time—and not enough distance—for that. The beasts were already coming, charging through the bushes, their growls echoing with deep thrums among the trees.

Garrus aimed at the one that had made it the farthest and pulled the trigger, sending a solid round into its large head. The creature let out a startled yelp and collapsed, its blood, thick and dark red, gushing out from between its eyes.

There was no time to check if it was properly dead (it would have been a miracle if it wasn't, anyway); there were more on the way, and they seemed to be running even faster now. Garrus pulled the trigger again and again, mowing down as many of them as he could, but as soon as a few would drop, others would appear from the deep shadows.

He cursed, slamming in a fresh heatsink, and raised his rifle to fire again when he felt some movement at his feet, and a blue wave of incredible energy burst out in a wide circle, launching the creatures up in the air and crashing them violently into the tree trunks around them. For a few moments, the reverberating sound of thuds and yowls filled the air, then everything went silent.

Eyes wide, Garrus looked down at Shepard. Her right arm was still outstretched, her upper body raised on her other elbow, her whole being enveloped by a shimmering aura of blue. Apparently satisfied that the enemy had been dealt with, she glanced up at him, shooting him a weak smile.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. You?"

She nodded, closed her eyes, collapsed back onto the ground, and drifted off again.

Garrus huffed out a sigh. That was too close. The ship, on the other hand, wasn't. They still had a way to go before they reached the safety of its metal hull, and he had no desire to have a repeat performance of what had just happened.

They needed to find some kind of shelter; a cave, an old mine, anything to keep them safe for the night. He checked his map, searching for some kind of structure in the forest, but came up empty. Still, there had to be something out here. There were so many abandoned facilities on the way to the Suns' operation before; there was no way there wasn't some place they could withdraw to and wait for morning to come.

He turned off his omni-tool and put away his weapon, detaching his sniper rifle instead. Switching on his thermal scope, he scanned their surroundings, looking for anything that would indicate some kind of structure, natural or manmade, in their vicinity.

There. Not too far away, there was something. It looked like a small building, dark and as long as they could take refuge in it, it was all they needed.

Garrus collapsed his rifle, snapped it to his back, and picked up his teammate from the ground.

The building was about a hundred feet away; if they were lucky, they were going to make it without another ambush.

 

* * *

The structure in the distance turned out to be an old miner's cabin. It appeared to have been abandoned by necessity, not choice: a few tools were still lined up in one corner, and the small dining table in the kitchen area was still awaiting the hungry occupants with two sets of plates piled high with some kind of food that had long ago turned to an unrecognizable, rotting mess.

Judging by the layer of dust, the cabin had been unoccupied for several months—if not years. It had probably been erected by some enterprising souls wishing to make a few credits by extracting the treasures of the earth underneath their feet. If not for their present circumstances, Garrus might have pondered the fate that had befallen them; right now, however, it was enough to know that they were gone, mercifully leaving their modest home for him and Shepard to take refuge in.

Still, not willing to risk any unexpected visitors, he punched a few lines of code into the door's control panel (seemingly serviced by its own emergency power supply, since it was the only source of light in the entire room), and locked themselves in before taking a more careful look around the place.

Besides the kitchen, the cabin only consisted of two beds shoved up tight against one of the walls, a storage box by the door, a small bathroom with a sink and a toilet, and a generator that hopefully still had enough juice left in it to start up the electricity in the rest of the building.

It would have to do, at least for a few hours.

Garrus walked over to one of the beds by the wall and gently laid Shepard on top of the blanket, pulled taut a long time ago by careful hands. Shepard groaned, brows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut, and he reached out to run the back of a finger along her cheek.

"You all right?" he asked.

A thin line of wetness trickled out from the outside corners of her eyes. "It hurts."

Garrus's chest tightened. "Where?"

"Everywhere."

He sucked in a deep breath as he sat down next to her, and tried to keep his hand steady as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Shepard, it's… going to be all right." He swallowed, hoping that she couldn't hear the distressed thrum in his subharmonics. "It's going to pass, and you'll be back to normal in no time."

She reached out for his hand, and he met her halfway, squeezing her fingers until they went lax when she drifted off again.

In all honesty, he had no idea what was going to happen. That case on the Citadel didn't end well for some of the mercs that had taken too much of that damned drug. They certainly went through hell as their systems tried to eliminate the toxin, and not all of them made it in the end. He desperately hoped Shepard was not going to be in that group.

He wished Mordin was here; he would know what to do, and he might even have some cure or anti-serum or _something_ to prevent the worst from happening.

Or… maybe he didn't have to be here. Maybe he could help, even through this distance.

Garrus let go of Shepard's hand and, with quick fingers, tapped on his omni-tool to start up his messaging program.

_To: Mordin Solus_

_From: Garrus Vakarian_

_Mordin, I need your assistance. Shepard has been exposed to large amounts of Minagen X3. What do I do?_

_Use this channel. It's safe and I've bypassed the buoy limits for faster communication._

_G._

With a last glance at Shepard, he stood up. Even with his hack, it was probably going to take a while to hear back from the doctor, and he wanted to check out that generator and the storage cabinets. If they were lucky, these people had some medications stored somewhere. If they were not, then… well, he hoped Mordin would have some ideas.

 

* * *

The only things he could find were some long-expired painkillers and a few rolls of bandages, but at least the generator started up without too much trouble. And, by the time the electricity came online, Mordin's reply had arrived as well.

_To: Garrus Vakarian_

_From: Mordin Solus_

_If patient still alive, take her to medical facility. Needs antidote. Possibly IV solution as well. If hospital not available, let her rest but don't let her fall into coma. Wake periodically. In case of fever, cool body down. Administer medication for pain. Replenish fluids if vomiting. Still see doctor as soon as possible._

_Let me know if Shepard survives._

Garrus's hand froze in the air as he glanced over at Shepard's body. Her temperature readings in his visor's thermal display were definitely much higher than he'd been used to. He cursed, remembering the snippets of conversation he'd caught about that case on the Citadel; something about the overtaxed nervous system of Minagen X3's victims manifesting itself in highly elevated temperatures which, if went unchecked, could result in brain damage, and even death.

He rushed over to the small refrigeration unit and yanked it open—then closed it just as quickly. With the power on standby for who knew how long, everything it had once contained had long since gone bad. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, trying to dispel the unpleasant smell that had escaped the box, and charged over to the sink instead.

The faucet turned on with a squeak, gushing out a brown liquid and sending it down the drain. Garrus let it run, hoping that the sediment would soon clear up, and went in search of a small tub and a towel in the bath. He found both.

By the time he came back to the kitchen, the water was, indeed, much cleaner. He filled up the small container with the liquid and carried it, together with the towel, to the bed.

He paused as he looked down at the human on the mattress. Applying the cold water to her face would probably not be enough—not with her armor keeping her warm. It definitely wouldn't work with a turian; with her species, he could only guess, but it made sense to expose as much of her thin skin to the air and to the water as he could.

He put the tub and the towel down on the floor, and set to work removing the hard metal encasing Shepard's body. He didn't get far; the storm that had been brewing in the distance suddenly swept in above them, bringing with it deafening thunder, blinding lightning, and beating rain—and an agitated commander who'd been awakened by the sound.

She sat up, eyes wide and hand trembling as she clawed at her back, trying to pull her rifle off her shoulder. "We're under attack. Get into cover!"

Garrus grabbed her hands and tried to keep her still. "It's just a storm. We're fine."

"Assault rifle. Or SMG. Rockets! Mercs? Those damned robots." Her entire body glowed blue as she struggled against his arms, and Garrus held her, cooing soothing words until her ethereal aura dissipated and she collapsed back onto the mattress.

Garrus clamped down on his distress and returned to his task, removing Shepard's armor and undersuit, stripping her down to her underwear. She moaned and shivered, but didn't stop him, and he sat down on the bed by her side, pulled off his gloves, and dipped the towel with his bare hands into the cool water.

He started with her face, wiping her forehead, then continued on to her throat, her arms, the inside of her wrists. Her breathing slowed and her tremors stopped almost immediately; dropping her temperature down a few degrees, however, took a bit longer. The water turned warm and he had to change it a few times, but gradually, her readings began to normalize, and she opened her eyes.

"Garrus?" Her voice was weak, flat. She swallowed, and wheezed out a small cough. "What's going on?"

He met her gaze for a moment but continued on with his work. "You have a fever. I'm trying to cool you down."

"Oh." She followed his hand with her eyes as he wet the towel again and slid it down her arm. "I was hoping you were doing something a little more… exciting."

Garrus looked up. She was smiling, her cheeks flushed and her chest rising sharply with every breath.

"You feel better?" he asked.

"Yeah. A little. My head is killing me, though." She lifted a hand and pressed her fingers into her temple. Her eyes flitted around the room and her brow crinkled, mouth curling down in a confused frown. "What's this place?"

"An old miner's cabin. Had to get away from those damn beasts. It was getting too dangerous out there, and with your condition…" He waved a hand at her prone body. "Sorry we didn't make it to the ship. We'll make a run for it once the sun is up."

She watched him, her eyes narrowed in concentration. The drug must have still been having some effect on her brain cells, for she took a few long moments before she answered. "Okay. We'll… do that."

Most of the storm had passed by now, but there was still some pattering of rain drops on the roof, and she looked up at the ceiling, eyes searching for the source of the noise.

"It's raining," Garrus said.

Her hand, already on its way to her back to snatch an invisible rifle out of its holster, stopped. "Oh." She bit into her lip and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry to be… such a bother."

Garrus dropped the towel in the tub and bent down, brushing his forehead against hers. "No. You're not. If I were injured, you'd do the same."

She looked up at him. Her hand, so anxious to mete out justice a moment ago, gently slid up his neck, cupping the side of his face. "Yeah. I would."

Garrus watched as she dozed off. The good news was, her temperature seemed to be in the normal range now. He waited for a few minutes to see if her fever returned, and when it didn't, he pushed the tub with the water and the towel aside.

A wave of exhaustion shuddered through his body, and the fresh wound in his arm and leg, suppressed by medi-gel and adrenaline until now, began to throb again. Slowly, he gathered himself up, peeled off his armor, and stocked the pieces in a neat pile in the corner. There wasn't much space for him on the bed he'd laid Shepard down on, but he didn't care. He needed some rest for the next day's trek, but more than that, he needed to know if she was all right and if her condition changed through the night.

Moving her closer to the wall, he slipped in behind her, and snaked his arm around her waist.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep in a few seconds.

 

* * *

Garrus woke up to the sound of Shepard's moaning.

He shot up in the bed, nearly falling off the edge as he did so, and leaned over Shepard's face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her forehead shone with a light sheen of perspiration, but her temperature seemed to be normal.

"Shepard," he said, nudging her shoulder gently, "you all right?"

Her eyes fluttered open. "I'm hungry."

Garrus laughed. "You must be feeling better, then."

"Yeah." She sat up, and moaned again, grabbing her forehead with both hands. "Ouch. My head still hurts like hell."

Garrus got up and walked over to the other bed to grab her undersuit he'd thrown on the empty mattress the night before. "Let's get out of here. You can take some painkillers on the ship."

She nodded, and caught the fabric he held out for her. "Thanks."

He kept an eye on her as they got dressed. She seemed to be wobbly and a little weak, but the fact that she was able to stand on her own too feet was definitely a good sign.

He peered out the small window above the sink. Outside, the world looked cheery and calm, with the sun already high up in the sky.

"Ready?" he asked, bringing up the map and the positioning system on his omni-tool.

"Yeah."

"All right, then." He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, encouraging her to put at least some of her weight on him. She tried to wave him off, but he ignored her protests. Good thing, too, for her knees almost buckled as they began to walk. "The ship's not too far," he said as he unlocked the door.

"Good."

She took a deep breath as they emerged into the forest, and she leaned into his side as they began making their way through the trees.


	27. Private Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and bookmarks, and special thanks for the lovely comments! I'm always anxious to hear what you all thought of a new chapter. :)
> 
> Big thanks to the wonderful Suilven for beta reading.
> 
> Warning: this chapter has adult content and is not safe for work.

The walk from the old miner's cabin to the ship went without a hitch. The path took Garrus and Shepard through some rough terrain and a few prickly bushes, but they encountered no bloodthirsty creatures in the trees or the underbrush, and descending down the hill took much less effort than climbing up to the top had the day before.

Still, despite her earlier, grumbling insistence that she was fine and could walk on her own, Shepard found herself leaning on Garrus's arm more and more as they made their way through the vegetation. Her legs, sluggish and weak, struggled to keep her upright, while her brain behind her forehead throbbed with so much pain she thought it was going to burst right through her skull. By the time they reached the airlock, her fingers were digging into Garrus's arm so hard she wondered if they were going to leave a dent in his armor.

She collapsed into the pilot's chair as soon as they'd made it into the cockpit. Her limbs trembling, she leaned back and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that the sudden wave of nausea that hit her like an unexpected storm would soon subside.

"Are you all right?" Garrus asked from somewhere above.

She didn't need to open her eyes to know that he was worried; she could hear it in the distressed timbre of his voice. "I'm fine," she said, taking a few deep breaths through her nose. "Just need a little rest."

He was silent for a long moment, then there was a slight nudge against her shoulder, followed by a tap tap tap and a series of beeps, as he leaned over her chair and entered something into the navigation panel in front of her.

With some effort, Shepard managed to crack an eye open. "What are you doing?"

"Setting a course for Omega."

She sat up—and regretted her sudden move immediately. Willing her stomach and her pounding brain to calm down, she leaned back again, swallowed, and inhaled slowly. "Why?"

Garrus finished entering the coordinates before he straightened up and gazed down at her. "You almost died. Not many people survive such a large dose of Minagen X3. In small amounts, it's a biotics stimulant and ability enhancer. But it's also a neurotoxin. Mordin needs to make sure there are no lasting effects." He gave her a sympathetic look. "He can make you feel better, too. He said you might need an antidote and an IV."

Shepard stared up at him, brows drawn together in confusion. "He said… Just when did you talk to him?"

"Last night. I sent him a message."

"Oh." She chewed on her lower lip as thoughts of their original mission pushed through the haze in her brain. "What about Bau?"

"I'll send a message to Goto and T'Soni to get the ball rolling, but you need to be checked out first. Omega is just one relay jump away anyway."

She thought for a moment, fighting the fog swirling around in her mind, and finally came to the decision that he seemed to make sense. "Mmm. Okay."

Garrus sat down in the co-pilot's seat, reached over, and took her hand in his. "You want something to eat? You said you were hungry."

Shepard's eyes drifted off, unfocused, as she evaluated the state of her body. As unappealing as food was right now, it probably wouldn't hurt to get at least _something_ into her stomach. It had been almost a full day since she'd last eaten, and while the weakness, headache, and nausea could have been caused by an overdose of that drug, they also might be the results of a severe drop in her blood sugar and of the overuse of her biotics. Most likely, it was a combination of them all.

"Yeah." She huffed out a sigh and attempted to get up. "I should have something."

Garrus stopped her. "Stay. Rest. I'll get what you need." He let go of her hand and stood up. "What do you want?"

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks. I think… maybe just some crackers and juice for now. And some painkillers."

"Crackers?"

"Yeah. Those crunchy little things in the blue box."

"Oh. All right. I'll be right back."

He strode out of the cockpit, his boots thudding with determined steps on the metal floor as he made his way to the mess, and soon she could hear him rummaging through the kitchen cabinets and opening the fridge door to get her modest meal and the medication.

Resting her head against the back of the chair, Shepard closed her eyes and filled her lungs with a slow inhale, trying to think back to the last time somebody had taken care of her like this. It must have been when she was still a child. She had a vague memory of her mother bringing her some cookies and tea when she'd gotten sick, and putting them on her side table by the bed—then walking out of her room and leaving her on her own. It felt lonely, but she couldn't really blame her. There was always work to be done; no time to sit idly and chitchat or—what she had wanted the most—stay with her and read one of her favorite books.

Later, when she got older, she made her own tea, and read to herself. After the raid on Mindoir, not even that; after all, the children's home and the military weren't really into pampering you when you were sick or hurt.

But this was nice. This… she could definitely get used to.

Except, she shouldn't. She wasn't going to have this luxury anymore once she and Garrus found Bau and finished their training. Sure, they might have agreed to meet up in between missions whenever they could, but realistically, how often was that going to happen?

She blew out a sigh, and forced herself to banish that thought. She would worry about that later. Right now, he was still here, they were still together, and she wasn't going to ruin what they had now by worrying about the future.

 

* * *

After the snack and the analgesics, she felt much better. In fact, she felt well enough to trudge all the way to the small mess hall without Garrus's help and trade the pilot's chair for a seat at the dining table.

Her elbow propped up on the metal surface and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, she watched as Garrus's fingers danced over his omni-tool, tapping out a message to Kasumi Goto and Liara T'Soni.

"There," he said after a couple of minutes, shutting off his omni-tool. "Now we wait."

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, tilting her head as she studied his alien features. "You should eat something, too."

"Yeah. I was just about to." He stood up, walked over to the refrigerator, and pulled out one of his frozen meals. With the food in one hand, he opened the heating unit with the other, but stopped and turned around before he popped the tray in. "You want something else? I can heat that up first."

Shepard smiled, and shook her head. "Maybe later. I'll wait and see first if my stomach is okay with the stuff I've already eaten."

He nodded and turned back to the oven, leaning his hip against the counter as he waited for the seconds to count down on the display. Shepard watched silently as he pulled out his food after the chime, peeled the cover off the top, and walked back to the table, settling down on the chair across from her.

She used to think that turian food looked strange and unpalatable, but by now, she'd seen it so many times that the blue-hued meat, purple vegetables, and whatever that orange, gooey stuff was, had become as commonplace to her as any old human food on the menus of the Alliance ships she'd served on. Even the odd, long utensils Garrus used were no longer exotic. They served their purpose and, if the quickly diminishing amount on his plate was any indication, they served it quite well.

He must have been starving, for she had never seen him eat so quickly. It made her heart clench with guilt: if she hadn't been so damn nosy, none of this would have happened. She could have walked out of the Suns' facility on her own two feet, they could have gotten back to the ship much sooner, and he wouldn't have had to take care of her at the expense of his own needs.

She wanted to do something for him. "I'll get some more juice," she said, gathering herself up from her chair. "You want anything?"

He looked up, swallowed down the enormous bite he'd taken out of his meat, and reached across the table to grab her arm. "Just sit. I can get it."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Really. Let me do this for you. It's only fair."

Slowly, reluctantly, he let go of her. "Uh, okay. If you're sure. Maybe some _lappa_ , then."

Shepard frowned, and scratched the back of her neck. "Which one is that again?"

"Green fruit. Spiky. This big." He curled his hands as though he was holding up a small beach ball for her inspection. "It's in the bottom drawer."

"Okay." She flashed him a smile and walked over to the fridge. After some searching through the lower bin, she pulled out the fruit in question. "You want a knife with it?"

"What for?"

"To peel it."

Garrus snorted. "Unlike you delicate humans, we can use our hands to eat some puny little fruit."

Shepard rolled her eyes, but she huffed out a small laugh as she handed him the food. "Some use brawn, some use brains. And we can do plenty of things with our _delicate hands_." She wiggled her fingers and gave him a wink, her lips quirking into a knowing smirk when his talons, ready to rip into the hard shell of his fruit, paused in the air.

"Maybe… you could remind me once you feel all better." He gave her a significant look, his mandibles flicking out in a cheeky grin, before he turned his attention to the fruit and ripped into it.

Shepard grabbed her drink from the refrigerator, sat back down on her chair, and watched in quiet wonder as Garrus tore his food apart. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he bit into the flesh, her cheeks heating up with a sudden warmth when his long, blue tongue darted out to lick the juice off his fingers.

After a while, she cleared her throat and put her drink down. "I think," she said, drawing out the words as though she was savoring every last drop of an exquisite wine, "I'm going to take a shower. Whenever you're ready, maybe you could—"

Without a moment of hesitation, Garrus dumped the remnants of his _lappa_ into the tray in front of him. "I'm ready."

 

* * *

It took some negotiation to agree on a water temperature that would be warm enough for Garrus without boiling Shepard alive, but eventually, they managed. Soon, the small room filled with soothing steam, and Shepard closed her eyes as she stood under the shower head, rinsing off the sweat and the dirt of the previous day.

She reached over to the small alcove in the wall to grab her soap, but Garrus was faster. Pushing her hand away, he picked it up, turned her around, and began running the scented bar down her back. It wasn't really her preferred way, but she didn't have the heart to tell him; besides, soon enough, he replaced the soap with his hands, spreading the lather around, and _that_ felt infinitely better.

He drew small, gentle circles down her back and up, venturing out over her shoulders and arms. The soft, leathery pads of his fingers skated over her skin, made slick by the water and the suds, and despite the elevated temperature in the room, she couldn't hold back a small shiver from running down her spine as she remembered his claws, blunted as they were, ripping into the hard shell of his fruit just a few minutes ago. It was inconceivable that someone with such lethal instruments could be so gentle, so tender; yet here he was, careful as ever, and she closed her eyes, trusting him, this alien creature, without a single shred of doubt in her mind.

Judging by the solid shape beginning to glide along the back of her legs now, he'd picked up the soap again to apply it to her lower body. It still felt a little strange, but she bit her lip and waited, and in a few moments, his hands were on her again, paying special attention to her buttocks, squeezing them lightly, before they traveled lower.

His touch set off a rush of heat along her skin, flooding her nerve endings with delicious warmth, and she suddenly felt weak again, though for different, much more pleasant reasons than before. She steadied herself, flattening her hands on the wall. She hoped she hadn't just moaned out loud, but perhaps she had, for Garrus's movements faltered for a second, and his fingers, steady and firm until now, quivered as they traveled up and inward towards her inner thigh.

Shepard stopped breathing for a long moment, the muscles in her lower belly tightening in anticipation. She changed her stance, opening her legs a bit wider to give him better access, but instead of continuing with his exploration, Garrus stopped, and stood up from his crouched position. He stepped forward and pressed into her back, wrapping his arms around her front as he buried his nose in her neck, nuzzling her favorite spot right behind her ear.

"Is this all right?" he asked.

Shepard's head lolled back to rest on his cowl. "Yes. Totally. Absolutely."

Garrus chuckled. His tongue flicked out to trail a thin rivulet of water trickling down her neck, and he relaxed his hold, moving his hands up to trace her collarbones, her sternum, the underside of her breasts.

He was a solid, dependable wall behind her, and Shepard took the opportunity to lean against him, not trusting her own, quivering body to hold her weight anymore as his thumb slowly crept upward and brushed across a nipple. She hissed out a sigh, and he nipped at her shoulder, sliding one hand up to cup her breast, while the other ghosted down her stomach, making its slow and steady way to the apex between her legs.

The sound of the water pattering against their skin and the floor receded somewhere to the back of Shepard's mind, drowned out by the loud pounding of her blood in her ears. Desire raced through her body as his hand crept towards its destination, and this time, she _knew_ she moaned out loud when he finally slipped a finger inside and curled it _just so_.

She desperately wanted to touch him, and she reached behind her to run her fingers over his scales, peppered in elaborate patterns along the outside of his thighs. They felt different now; softer, more pliable, their relative firmness tamed by the water raining down on them in warm cascades.

Garrus purred as she caressed his hide, the vibration from his chest stuttering for a moment when her hand slid in between them to trace his seam. It was halfway open already, and it didn't take long for him to emerge fully, erect and ready, into her waiting hand.

He groaned out her name as she gripped him, stroking his length as best as she could from this position. His fingers matched her rhythm as they dipped into her slick heat, drawing careful circles and long strokes, and soon, his knee pressed in between her legs, nudging them further apart. She bit into her lip and complied, her heart hammering in her ribcage in thrilled excitement as she leaned forward, releasing him and bracing her hands on the wall.

She had to remind herself to breathe as he slowly pressed forward. His talons, strong and dangerous, dug into her skin as he held her in place, gently tilting her hips up towards him, and she pushed back, releasing a shuddering gasp when he sheathed himself fully inside her.

Garrus stilled only for a moment before he started to move, slowly, gently, with shallow strokes. It felt beyond good as he slid in and out, and she rocked back against him, swaying her hips in time with his. She'd only had sex in a shower once before; it was during N2 camp, with a fellow marine, the two of them clinging to each other in the corner stall, chasing their release after the adrenaline rush of an unauthorized midnight run together. The threat of discovery was thrilling, but it didn't exactly allow for a leisurely climax; it was rushed and quick and desperate, not nearly as satisfying as she had hoped.

This, here, with Garrus, couldn't have been more different. Silly little words of affection spilled from his lips as he moved against her, careful, tender, unhurried, the privacy of their own ship granting them all the time in the world they wanted. It was sweet, and she loved it, and she loved him for being so considerate after her brush with death, but she needed more. She slid her hands lower on the wall and changed her angle, letting him sink in deeper, and he growled, his self-control slipping away from him as he increased his pace.

She matched his movements happily, until he suddenly stopped and pulled out, turning her around. She mewled in protest, unable to tamp down a disappointed groan.

"I want to see you," he explained, his voice strained and breathless, as he grabbed the backs of her thighs. He lifted her up and hitched her legs over his hip spurs.

"Oh," Shepard managed to gasp out as he entered her again, pushing her back against the wall and swallowing whatever else she might have wanted to say with a kiss.

She looped her arms around his cowl and held on, digging her heels into his back and running her tongue along the sensitive skin on his neck, and he picked up his speed again, pushing and thrusting and driving into her. Her fingernails raked down his carapace as his tongue caressed her neck, and she clung to him through his insistent jostling, eyes shut and her breaths coming in shuddering gasps. Her body flooded with endorphins, the tension in her groin built into a tight, pulsing knot until her vision went black and her world exploded into a powerful, incredible, magnificent wave of pleasure. She cried out as her inner muscles clamped down on Garrus's shaft in shudder after shudder of delirious aftershocks, and he moaned, his strokes stuttering briefly before he could resume his frantic rhythm again.

His orgasm came suddenly, tearing her name from his throat with a howl. His hips jerked forward a few more times as he emptied himself inside her, and she clutched him, rubbing soothing circles into the supple skin on the back of his neck as he slowly came down from his high.

She could feel his muscles tremble; whether from his release or from fatigue, she didn't know, but she unhooked her ankles and slid down from his hips, settling her feet back on the floor.

His hands moved up to her waist, not willing to let her go just yet, and he touched his forehead to hers, his eyes squeezed shut, as he choked out a few shallow, shaky breaths.

When he opened his eyes at last, it was to check her skin for abrasions. "Do you need some lotion?" He stepped back and carefully touched her inner thigh.

She shook her head, smiling. "I'm fine. Your skin's much softer after a little warm water."

Garrus's mandibles flicked out in a smile of his own. "Good. That's... good." He reached over her shoulder and retrieved his soap. "I guess we should, ah, finish cleaning up before the water turns cold."

Shepard wrapped her fingers over his, the corner of her lips quirking up into an impish grin, as she slipped the soap out of his hand. "My turn. I'll wash _you_ now."

 

* * *

Shepard winced as another needle penetrated her skin, pushing deep into her hipbone. "Haven't you taken enough samples already? I thought you said my scans were fine."

Mordin ignored her as he calmly finished the procedure, pulling out the needle and depositing it in a sterile container. "Indeed. However, needed more human tissue samples for comparative study of certain diseases communicable among different species." He took a deep inhale through his nostrils, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment. "Much genetic variety among human populations. Fascinating."

A muscle twitched in Shepard's jaw as she glared at the salarian. "So… these biopsies were not for my checkup? You used this to get more samples for your… _collection_?"

Her voice, though seemingly composed and reasonable, had an undertone that lesser creatures might have found intimidating, perhaps even terrifying, but Mordin merely shrugged. "It was a good opportunity. Was already performing tests on you. Efficiency is key to success, Commander."

Apparently done with the conversation, he turned around and hurried out of the room, taking the container with him. "Wait here. Can provide some medication for your headaches."

"You could have at least asked me," Shepard muttered under her breath, pulling the band of her pants back up over her exposed skin.

Garrus pushed away from the wall. "I'm glad you don't have any permanent damage. That's good."

"Yeah. Hopefully that medication will stop these migraines, though." She lifted her hand and brushed the pads of her fingers across her forehead. However much Minagen X3 had enhanced her biotics (and she had to admit that being able to throw a YMIR mech and a pack of enormous wild beasts around like _that_ had been _awesome_ ), it wasn't really worth this pain.

Before Garrus could reply, Mordin appeared again, holding a bottle in one hand and a large bag in the other. "Here," he said, plopping the pills into Shepard's hand. "These will help." He picked up a couple of datapads from his desk and shoved them inside his bag. "Let's go."

Shepard looked up from the bottle, eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Where?"

Mordin waved an impatient hand. "Your ship. To rescue Bau."

Her eyes darted over to Garrus. "We, uh, we're on vacation. There's no rescue mission. The Council—"

The salarian huffed out an annoyed puff of air. "Yes. Yes. Vacation. Heard what you said. Don't believe it." He turned around and, without waiting for an answer, marched out of the room. "Didn't think I was letting you do it without me, did you?"

"Well," Garrus said, his head tilted to the side as he watched the doctor go, "looks like we've got ourselves a teammate."

"Yeah. Looks like it."

"Could be useful," he continued. "Especially if Bau's in a bad shape when we find him. Could have really used Mordin's help on Watson."

Shepard nodded. "True."

She headed to the door, but her feet halted when he added in a low voice, almost a whisper, "You know what this means, though, right? No privacy."

Her lips curled down in a frown as she turned around, giving him a wide-eyed, disappointed stare. Son of a gun, he was right.

_Shit_.


	28. A New Team

It wouldn't have been _Omega_ , Shepard would later muse, if they hadn't bumped into a crime in progress even before they had reached the docks.

It was Mordin who noticed the four batarians and lone quarian at first. He'd taken point, steps sure and firm, as he charged ahead in the passageways leading to their ship, and Shepard and Garrus followed behind, their mood much less enthusiastic than the old salarian's as they navigated the filthy underbelly of the station.

Having the doctor on board could very well mean the difference between life and death for Bau, Shepard told herself. So, she tried, really, really tried, not to be petty and selfish about the situation. And yet, it was hard not to resent, at least a little bit, the loss of free, uninterrupted, private time she still could have had with Garrus until they found their mentor.

A side glance confirmed that Garrus felt the same way; his eyes darted over to her, his expression none too happy as they rounded a corner and—they nearly fell over the salarian when they found him crouched behind one of the large crates littering the corridor.

Instinctively, they dropped down next to the doctor without a word, and peered around the crate to take a peek at what had caught his attention up ahead.

Coming upon some low-life thugs waving their guns around was nothing unusual in this place. The identity of their victim, however, was.

"Where is she?" one of the batarians demanded, shoving the quarian in the shoulder with the barrel of his weapon.

The quarian raised his hands. He tried to take a step back, but couldn't; not with another member of the gang blocking the way behind him. "I don't know. I haven't seen any—"

His interrogator didn't let him finish. He struck fast, hard, and his defenseless prey fell to the floor, his hands clutching his stomach as he coughed and wheezed, trying to catch the breath the blow had stolen from his lungs.

Shepard's brows tightened into a frown, her eyes narrowed, as she stared at the body on the floor. "That sounded like… what was his name… Kenn?"

Mordin hummed, his head dipping in a small nod. "Yes. Kenn. From Kenn's Salvage."

Quietly, Garrus unhooked his rifle from his back. "What's he still doing here?"

Shepard reached for her own pistol. Yes, what was Kenn still doing on Omega? It had been weeks since she and Garrus had intervened on his behalf; she'd thought he would have enough credits by now to buy that ticket he wanted and get off this hellhole of a station.

Regardless, the reason he was still here didn't matter right now. Whatever it was that had kept him tied to this place, this wasn't the time to ponder the situation; not when over there, just a couple dozen feet away, the batarian raised his shotgun and pointed it at Kenn's head.

"Bullshit," he said, his upper lip lifting up in a snarl designed to reveal a row of sharp, yellow teeth, a time-honored display of warning and menace from his kind. "You've been seen with her at your shop."

Kenn shook his head. "She... was just a customer. I don't know her."

"Right." The batarian cocked his shotgun. "Last chance."

Kenn said nothing.

"Captain Chatty's mine," Garrus murmured, bracing the butt of his rifle against his shoulder.

Shepard nodded, but she didn't take her eyes off the group up ahead. "I'll take the one behind Kenn."

Mordin hummed out an acknowledgement, raising his own weapon and aiming it at what Shepard supposed was the rest of them, the two snickering bastards on the left.

"Don't be stupid," their leader said with a sneer. "We just… want to talk to her. Tell us where she is, and you won't be hurt." He waited. When he got no answer, he gave a disgusted shrug and spat on the face guard of the quarian. "Whatever. We'll find her without you."

Slowly, his finger curled around the trigger of his gun, and the corridor exploded in an eardrum-shattering roar, the thunderous blast of weapons fire reverberating off the walls and painting them with chunks of flesh and a fine mist of blood.

By the time Shepard and her team stopped firing, the only person still upright, still breathing up there, was the quarian in the middle of a circle of dead bodies, clutching the sides of his helmet in a futile effort to filter out the enormous noise still ringing off the walls.

Shepard waited for a long moment, her pistol still trained on the thugs lying on the floor, before she slowly raised herself to her feet and strolled over to their quarian friend.

Kenn's hands dropped to his lap as he looked up at her. "Commander Shepard? What... What are you doing here?"

She grinned and held out her hand, pulling Kenn up to his feet when he took it. "Saving your ass. What are _you_ still doing here? We thought you'd be long gone by now." She nudged her head back at Garrus, who'd just come to a full stop behind her.

"What did these assholes want?" Garrus asked. He kicked the gang leader's body with the toe of his boot, turning him over until he could see his dead, open eyes with a neat little hole between them. "Are you in trouble?"

Kenn looked around nervously. Other than their little group—and the dead batarians, of course—there was nobody else in the corridor, but he still lowered his voice as he answered. "Not here. Come with me, and I'll tell you everything."

He set out leading the way, but after taking a few steps, he stopped and turned around. "And thank you."

 

* * *

They wound through a series of narrow passages and dirty alleyways littered with garbage and assorted waste. Their walk seemed to be taking forever, and after a while, even with her trained sense of direction, Shepard found it hard to follow their path and make a map in her mind. Eventually, she gave up. She was pretty sure that all those left turns and right turns and backtracking had no other purpose than to make their walk longer than necessary and to throw off either their little party, or whoever might be following them in the shadows.

She wondered what exactly it was that Kenn had gotten himself into.

Garrus seemed to have picked up on the strangeness of their route as well. He shot a sharp glance at her, his brow plates pulled down over his narrowed eyes, and he leaned closer, opening his mouth to whisper something in her ear.

Whatever it was, it was left unsaid as Kenn suddenly came to a stop and opened the gate to a shabby, dilapidated building. The metal squeaked in loud protest, but it let them in, and they slipped through the door into the dim hallway. Kenn waited for them to file in, and looked up and down the street before he closed the gate behind them.

"This way," he said, gesturing down a dark corridor.

They passed a couple of apartments, some quiet, some thundering with loud arguments or music, until they arrived at their destination. Kenn entered his ID into the door's security panel, and when the lock turned green, he stepped through, inviting them to follow him in.

His place was small, but tidy, apparently serving a dual purpose of being a home and a storage room for the large number of machine parts and various engineering components he must have collected for his salvage business, all piled up in neat little towers on the floor along the back wall and the counter in the kitchen.

It was an intriguing sight, making Shepard's fingers itch with desire to pick up each and every piece and examine them, discuss their merits and drawbacks for hours, but they had better things to do right now than checking out the belongings of an old acquaintance. She tore her gaze away from the siren call of tech and was about to tell Kenn to start talking when a voice called out from the back.

"Kenn? Finally! I was getting worried. Did you get the—"

The owner of the voice, a female quarian with a pretty purple head scarf, walked in, head bent over some kind of component she was scanning with her omni-tool. She stopped, her feet frozen in mid-stride, when she looked up and noticed the small gathering in the room.

"Sorry I'm late," Kenn said. "I… ran into a little trouble. He waved an arm at Shepard, Garrus, and Mordin. "This is Commander Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, and you've met Professor Solus already at his clinic. They, uh, helped me out." He turned around, his eyes glowing with warmth behind his faceplate. "This is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. My best friend. She… needs help."

Garrus cocked his head, arms folded in front of his chest. "I'm guessing she's the one the batarians were after?"

Tali nearly dropped the part in her hand. "What?"

Closing the distance between them, Kenn plucked the thing from her grip and placed it carefully on top of one of his collections on the kitchen counter. The stack of components wobbled uncertainly for a brief moment, but everything stayed upright. "They must have tracked down the ship you stole from them," he said. "Once they got this far, it couldn't have been too difficult for them to find out about the only two quarians on the station. They cornered me at the docks."

"Keelah." Tali's shoulders slumped, her hands shaking as she wrung them together. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cause you trouble. I shouldn't have come here. If they had hurt you, I… I'd never forgive myself."

Kenn shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

Shepard raised a hand, her right index finger sticking up in the air. "Hold on. Just... hold on. You _stole a ship_ from them?"

"I didn't really _steal it_. More like, I took it from them." Shepard's eyebrows shot up on her forehead, and Tali let out a sigh, her breath whistling through the filter of her mask in a raspy breeze. "It's... a long story. Maybe we should sit down."

 

* * *

Finding enough spots in this small space for all of them to sit on was somewhat of a challenge. Shepard ended up squeezed in between Garrus and Mordin on the modest-sized couch, while Tali and Kenn dragged the only two chairs from the kitchen into the living room.

After a moment of fidgeting on her seat, Tali took a deep breath, her hands holding onto each other nervously in her lap, and began to talk.

Her tale of woe had started on Illium, and, more precisely, Nos Astra. It was the place she'd chosen for the first phase of her Pilgrimage, hoping to find a job with some kind of tech firm. Unfortunately (though, unsurprisingly), things had turned out to be much more difficult than she had imagined.

Jobs were scarce, especially for quarians, while rent was high, and the fear that she was always a hair's breadth away from inadvertently signing some dreadful clause on a contract didn't exactly help quench her building anxiety either. Her feelings of impending doom only intensified after her roommate, a distant cousin, lost everything she had and was forced to sell herself into indebted servitude, and then Tali was left alone in their apartment to fend for herself, with only a low-paying job and not much money, and the bills kept piling up, and the food was running out in the cupboard, and—

"Is this relevant to story of stolen ship?" Mordin interjected, his words slicing through the young woman's monologue like rapid-fire bullets through plywood.

"Uh, s-sorry," Tali stammered. "I guess not. Though, maybe. In a way."

Shepard waved a hand. "Fine. Go on. Just… try to stick to the important points. Please."

Tali gave a nod, cleared her throat, and continued.

In the end, it was exactly one of those infamous contract clauses that had brought her a lucky break when a member of a salarian merchant vessel was forced to stay behind to work off a debt he hadn't realized he'd taken on as a result of some business deal he'd negotiated in the city. Tali had just been let go from her job after the company she'd worked at had found themselves in hot water because of some careless financial maneuvers, and she happened to be in the career broker's office when the salarians came in, looking for a junior engineer.

It was right up her alley, so by the time her new employers' ship had left the planet, it had one less salarian and one more quarian on board than when they'd arrived.

The new job was everything Tali had hoped for. She was working with the engines all day, monitoring their efficiency and fixing problems as they arose, and soon, she became one of the valued members of the crew. They pulled off some deals in the Crescent Nebula, then jumped the relay to Omega's system to make a few deliveries before they would continue on to the Citadel.

On her left, Shepard could feel Mordin stir. He was probably getting impatient, ready to open his mouth to interrupt again. She didn't blame him; as fascinating as the young woman's story was, they didn't exactly have all day to chat. She considered telling her, again, to get to the point, but the words froze on her tongue when Tali uttered her next sentence.

"And then we received a distress call from what we, at first, thought was a derelict ship."

Mordin stopped moving, and Garrus leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, his full focus on the quarian as they all waited to hear the rest. His greaves pressed against Shepard's leg, but she could barely feel it over the knot forming in her stomach. She had a vague idea where this was going—and she didn't like it. Not one bit.

Tali's voice wavered as she went on. "Scans showed no life signs, but I… encouraged them to investigate. Told hem we should check it out anyway. Even if we found no survivors on board, we could at least salvage some of the tech." She looked away, her eyes glistening behind her mask. "They agreed."

She jumped up and began to pace, her gaze glued to the floor underneath her feet. "Three of us took the shuttle to the ship. We docked without any problems, and headed towards the bridge. We didn't get far. As soon as we turned a corner, we were ambushed."

"Let me guess," Garrus said. "Pirates."

Tali nodded. "Yes. It was all a trap." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Cortis and Sunei died instantly. I was luckier. I managed to roll into cover behind a crate and took two of those bastards out before more flooded the corridor and I had to retreat."

"You. You killed two of them." Garrus cocked his head, his subvocals thrumming with disbelief.

Through the foggy glass of her mask, Tali gave the turian a hard stare. "I have a shotgun," she simply said, as though that statement alone should have been more than enough proof of her claim.

Shepard bit into her lower lip, stifling a smile. She hadn't had much experience with quarians, but she liked this one. "So," she said, "what happened then?"

Tali relaxed her stance and got back to her pacing. "I backtracked to the shuttle, but I was too late. Another group was already there, hacking into the airlock. One of them noticed me and we exchanged fire, but with the others already closing in behind me, I had to get out of there. I found a maintenance shaft, climbed into it, and stayed out of sight while they searched for me. After a while, they gave up, but not before I overheard their plan. They were going to ride the shuttle back to the _Odessia_ , pretending to be our boarding party, and then they were going to kill or capture everyone on board and take over the ship." Her hands curled into hard fists, shoulders rigid with rage. "And I couldn't even warn my crew because those sons of bitches had jammed our comm channel!"

An uncomfortable silence settled on the room. Tali blew out a long breath and rolled her neck, relaxing her muscles as she collected herself.

"I knew I had to do something. So, I climbed through those shafts again until I found an empty room with a computer terminal. Fortunately, it wasn't encrypted, so it was child's play to hack into their system and turn the jamming signal off. I managed to warn my crewmates about the shuttle just in time. They were about to open the shuttle bay's door, but after our conversation, they refused entry to the pilot."

Garrus leaned back into the sofa's threadbare cushions. "So, now you were trapped on the pirates' ship."

"Yes. But that was only one of my concerns." Tali sat down on the chair again, propping her feet up on the metal ring running between its legs. "From the room I was in, I couldn't see it, but as I was talking with my captain over the comm, another ship appeared out of nowhere and attacked the _Odessia_."

"More pirates, probably," Mordin mused. "Hiding, waiting for first group to board. With plan foiled, tried to force their way."

"The _Odessia_ had no weapons!" Tali burst out. Her hands found each other again, and she wrung them together as she went on. "They couldn't really defend themselves. So… I told them to get out of there. Just… leave me behind, I'd figure out something. Maybe meet them later on the Citadel.

"My crew took off, but from the room I was in, I couldn't be sure if the enemy ship had chased after them or stayed. But I knew the shuttle was still out there, and the last thing I wanted was for them to return and dock with the ship I was on. So, I improvised. I was pretty sure the bridge would be crawling with more bandits, so I figured my best bet would be to find my way to engineering. Which I did.

"I was in luck; the room was empty. I sealed the door, then I hacked into the main console and locked down the docking bay." Tali's gaze drifted down to her boots and she swallowed, avoiding looking anybody in the eye as she muttered the next sentence, her voice barely audible even in the dead silence. "Then I… vented the atmosphere from everywhere except engineering."

Shepard's lips pressed together as she regarded the young woman, her eyes filled with sympathy. Killing someone was never easy. Doing it as a civilian, without the comforting excuse of following orders… She couldn't even imagine how difficult it must have been for the quarian to wrestle with her conscience after an act like that.

Shepard leaned forward, trying to catch Tali's attention. "You did the right thing. Besides, those assholes would not have hesitated to kill you on sight."

Tali looked up, and blinked away the mist in her eyes. "Yes. Thank you." She took a deep breath, held it in for a long moment, and blew it out. "I waited ten, fifteen minutes, then made my way up to the bridge. There were… bodies everywhere. I told myself not to look, but I still see them sometimes. In my dreams." She swallowed, and shook her head. "The ship was in bad shape and didn't have much fuel left, but I hoped it could make it to Omega, where I knew Kenn was. So, I sent him a message, made some quick repairs, got the system up and running, and set course for here."

"I met her at the docks," Kenn said, reaching over to lay a hand over her shaking fingers as he took over. "I'd just made enough money for a ticket off of Omega, but didn't have enough for one more, so she moved in with me, and we decided to work together until we could afford passage for both of us. First I took her to Professor Solus's clinic for a round of antibiotics that she needed for the infection she got from a suit puncture during her ordeal, then we went back to the ship she'd arrived on. Wanted to give her dead crewmates a proper burial. Also, we figured we could salvage some components. The ship was old and severely damaged and not fit for inter-system travel, but we thought we could at least make some credits off of it. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, it had been picked clean. Even the dead were gone. Somebody must have vented them out into space."

Shepard frowned. "And how about the _Odessia_? Have you been able to contact your crew?"

"No. I don't know what happened to them." Tali sighed. "I hope they got away and they're just… I don't know. Maybe their comm system got damaged."

Shepard exchanged a glance with Garrus. She could tell he had an altogether different idea about the fate of the salarians, but he kept it to himself—a decision she wholeheartedly agreed with.

"How close are you to having enough money for the second ticket?" Garrus asked, pushing aside the question of the salarians for now.

"Not very close," Kenn said, his voice laced with frustration. "We lost a good chunk when somebody broke into our apartment while we were out salvaging tech. Haven't quite made up for it yet."

"And now you have those bastards coming after you, too."

Shepard chewed on her lip. "But, why are they even bothering? What exactly do they hope to gain from finding her?"

Garrus waved a hand. "Revenge. Making an example. Showing others not to screw with them. Seen plenty of that on the Citadel. Criminals are all the same, no matter where they are."

Shepard rubbed her chin with a knuckle, pondering the situation. Well, this sucked. They couldn't just leave these kids to their fate now and go on their merry way. Of course, they could just give them the money for those tickets, but how easy would it be for those bandits to track them down then? A better option might be to smuggle them off the station, with nobody on Omega having a clue about where they'd disappeared to. As for the way to do that, well, _they_ could take the quarians with them, but… it wasn't like they were on a cruise; this was a dangerous mission, with risk to life and limb—was it fair of them to expose these civilians to such danger? But, yet again, which was worse: to sit on a ship that _might_ see some action, or to sit here and wait for the pirates to find them again?

A nudge from Garrus pulled her out of her thoughts. "Let's talk," he said, jerking his head at the far corner of the room as he got up. He gave a small nod to their hosts. "Excuse us."

Shepard followed him. She was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say.

"We could take them with us," he whispered when they stopped at the wall, the paint cracked and peeling away in elaborate patterns that reminded her of a huge spider web, like the one she'd used to admire above an unused door of their barn on Mindoir. "I'd hate to expose them to more risk, but I don't think they'd be safe here either. And they could actually be useful. They could pilot the ship and give us an emergency pick-up if we were in a pinch. So, win-win."

"I agree," she whispered back. "I thought the same thing. And it's not like we don't have enough room on board. We'll just have to sneak them out so nobody would know where they went. Less chance of those pigs tracking them down again."

"All right. Let's give them the news, then."

They walked back to the group still sitting around the low coffee table, and stopped when three expectant faces turned their way.

"So…" Shepard started. "Here's the deal. We have a ship. We could take you with us, but be aware that we're on a mission. A pretty dangerous one. But if you're willing to—"

Tali jumped up. "I'll grab my things!"

She ran to the back room she'd come out of before. Shepard closed her mouth, the corner of her lips quirking up in a smile. "How about you, Kenn?"

Kenn stood up, a bit slower than his friend, and walked over to a storage cabinet to pull out a bag. "I'll get my stuff, too." He stopped, and turned to them for a moment. "And, thank you. Again."

Shepard nodded. "Anytime." Her eyes snapped to Mordin when the salarian cleared his throat.

"Interesting," he said. "Did not expect that. Will have less privacy with mate now."

Shepard's jaws clenched as she glared at the doctor, and for a brief moment, she seriously considered leaving him behind. It was the mental image of Bau injured and lying in a pool of blood that made her keep her mouth shut and turn away.

If she'd had any delusions about the salarian playing nice and keeping his observations to himself while on this mission, it was certainly gone now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions, and extra special thanks for all the lovely comments on the last chapter! It makes me happy to know that you're still enjoying the story. :)
> 
> Huge thanks to [suilven](http://archiveofourown.org/users/suilven/pseuds/suilven) for beta reading, and big, big thanks to [tristinai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tristinai/pseuds/tristinai) for helping me brainstorm about Tali's backstory and for being so supportive of my work. :)


	29. Making Alliances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a few really rough weeks IRL, but look! I managed to finish another chapter, in less than 6 weeks this time. :D
> 
> Thank you everyone for the kudos and bookmarks, and thank you to those of you who took the time to leave a comment on the last chapter and for giving me the motivation to keep chugging away at this story. There are only a few more chapters left, so I hope you'll stick around and enjoy the rest as well.
> 
> Thank you to Suilven for beta reading.

Bau kept his eyes closed but his ear canals open as he listened to the receding steps of the evening guard, waiting for several minutes of silence to pass before he would sit up on his cot and look around.

He'd made a mistake—a foolish, desperate, rookie mistake—before, which he wasn't about to repeat. He'd become too cocky, thinking that he'd gotten the routine of his captors down; had thought he had enough time to hack into the encryption placed on his omni-tool once again. Never expected the guard to come back so soon and find him fiddling with his tool.

He definitely hadn't foreseen the man frying the electronics in his device as a deterrent to further attempts, taking away any chance Bau might have had to contact his team, burning his flesh and singing his skin raw in the process. So, now, Bau waited, trying not to think of the pain in his wrist and along his lower arm, or of the tender bruise on his temple where the human had hit him with the butt of his rifle.

Not having a functioning omni-tool made measuring the passing of time somewhat of a challenge, but not impossible. His internal clock was fairly well developed, honed during years of experience fighting crime and an assorted number of enemies, and Bau made himself lie still for what he estimated to be about twenty minutes.

Nobody came, and, eventually, he deemed it safe enough to sit up and look around. The room, one he'd been tossed into after his latest escape attempt, was Spartan, with just a bed and a toilet, and no windows. His captors must have learnt their lesson. Unfortunately, they'd learnt it all too well.

Still, Bau had never been one to give up so easily, and he wasn't going to do that now. He stood, then began to walk around the perimeter of the room, examining every nook and cranny, every little detail that he could exploit and—

Ah. There it was. A vent in the wall, not too high, with just a grate covering the hole. Even better, the only things holding the grate in place were two rusty nails, so maybe if he hooked his fingers in it and yanked...

The cover came free with a cloud of dust and debris. Bau turned his head away and tried not to inhale, but he couldn't avoid a series of coughs his lungs forced on his body to expel the irritants that had managed to make it inside his nasal passages. Once he could breathe freely again, he froze, listening for the sound of any footsteps. When there were none, he gently put the cover on the floor, doing his best not to make any noise, and turned his attention to the hole in the wall.

It was rather small.

Still, there appeared to be enough space in there to squeeze himself in and crawl on his hands and knees, so he took a deep breath, made a silent request to the Ancestors for assistance, climbed into the vent, and disappeared in the darkness.

 

* * *

It hardly seemed possible, but Kenn took an even more convoluted route back to the docks and, eventually, to Shepard and Garrus's rented ship, than the path he'd previously chosen to his apartment.

This time, Shepard had no complaints. In fact, she welcomed the quarian's care with which he chose every alley, every passage, as they made their way through the jungle of filthy streets that made up the underbelly of Omega, pulling them into dark recesses and keeping them in the shadows whenever someone happened to walk by. It was a prudent precaution: not leaving a trail or any clues as to their whereabouts would only work if not a soul had seen them board the _Blue Nebula,_ after all.

Still, Shepard could have kissed the airlock door when they finally made it to the ship and walked on board. She was tired and hungry, had had just enough of this damned station, and wanted nothing more than to find out whether Liara T'Soni or Kasumi Goto had any information about Bau's possible location, set course for the place if they did, then sit down and have something to eat.

It wasn't too much to ask, and would have been an entirely feasible plan if only she and Garrus hadn't brought a few guests on board.

"So..." Tali started when they came to a halt in the mess hall, practically bouncing up and down on her toes with excitement as she took in every little detail of her new home, "where can I put my stuff?"

Shepard's eyes widened, her gaze darting over to Garrus as a sudden dread began to settle in the pit of her stomach. _Sleeping arrangements._ Dammit. This wasn't just a day trip, where they could expect everybody to sit it out in the mess while they flew to their destination. These people were going to need some actual beds they could call their own, and as silly as it was, that was the one thing she and Garrus had neglected to consider when they'd agreed to expand their team—and, more likely than not, that lack of foresight was going to bite them in the ass big time now.

If the startled look Garrus returned in her direction was anything to go by, the realization about their failure to properly plan ahead had hit him just as hard.

"Uh," Shepard croaked, reaching behind her neck to rub away the tension that had begun to coil her muscles into a stiff mess, "we have three single-bed rooms. So, each of you could have your own, private space. I think that would work quite well."

_Please don't ask where Garrus and I sleep._

Tali brought her hands together and wrung them nervously, her eyes glowing with concern behind her faceplate. "But... what about you two? We wouldn't dream of taking your rooms, right, Kenn? We could just roll out a mat down in engineering."

Shepard sighed, trying to school her features into something resembling a neutral expression as her mind raced furiously over the implications of a potential discovery about Garrus and her bunking together in the captain's cabin. In the same bed. That... wasn't exactly something she was ready to share with the world—especially not while they were still under evaluation. She could just imagine the headlines and... bloody hell, Khalisah al-Jilani's pointed questions about why the Alliance had chosen a raging xenophile for the honor of becoming humanity's first Spectre.

And then, something else occurred to her. What had she and Garrus been thinking, anyway? What was going to happen if they found Bau and when they brought him on board, he walked into the cabin they should have saved for him, and realized that his students had been screwing each other while he was gone?

But... maybe this was actually good. This was the wakeup call they needed to get their act together before that happened. She'd just have to get Mordin, Kenn, and Tali out of the way, discreetly move her and Garrus's belongings to the crew quarters, and pretend that they'd intended to keep the captain's room for Bau all along.

With great effort, she forced a smile on her face, hoping that it didn't look half as strained as she feared. "It's all right," she said. "Garrus and I are fine sleeping in the crew quarters. That's what we did on our earlier assignment, too."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely." Shepard's eyes slid back to Garrus, settling on him as she gave him a long, meaningful look. "Maybe you could take them on a tour of the ship while I make the preparations."

Whether with amusement or anxiety, she wasn't sure, but his mandibles twitched as he gave her a small nod. "I think that's a great idea," he said, already making the move to usher Mordin and the two quarians out of the mess hall. "You should be familiar with the layout of the ship anyway. Might want to check out the engine room as well."

Tali's eyes lit up. She dropped her bag onto the nearest chair and grabbed Kenn by an arm, dragging him behind her as she followed the turian down the hallway. Mordin, on the other hand, didn't flinch a muscle. He kept to the same spot he'd stopped at, head tilted and eyes narrowed as he studied Shepard's face on the other side of the table.

"Well?" Shepard said, trying not to sound too impatient. "Aren't you going with them?"

"Am familiar with vessels of this kind," the salarian replied, his feet still rooted to the floor. "Don't need to see layout."

Shepard took a deep breath. She really, really hoped they were going to find Bau soon, otherwise she might have to strangle the good doctor before this mission was over.

Keeping those twitchy hands occupied with something else instead, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and glowered at the professor. "Go. With. Them," she said, putting as much authority as she could behind every single word. "Now." When he still didn't move, she dropped her arms with a sigh and pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to hold back the headache beginning to bloom behind her skull. "Please. Everybody needs to be familiar with all parts of the ship. For... emergencies."

Mordin considered her for a moment, and she steeled herself for an argument, but it never came. With a small smile on his lips, the professor gave her a dip of the head, turned on his heels, and, finally, followed the others without a word.

Shepard waited until the footsteps died down, and once she was certain she was alone, she took off towards the captain's cabin.

She had a lot of stuff to move.

 

* * *

Picking up their discarded clothing and stuffing them in their sacks took a couple of minutes; collecting her toiletries and the bags of chips she'd insisted on snacking on while stretched out on the small couch the night before, a few more.

Her arms loaded with all their gear and personal items, she left the cabin and headed to the crew quarters, moving as swiftly as she could. She did have to cut through the mess hall to reach her destination, but luckily, Garrus and the two quarians were still out of sight.

Mordin, however, wasn't.

He was sitting at the table in the mess, scrolling through some charts on the datapad in his hand. Shepard cursed under her breath but kept on walking, head held high and eyes stubbornly fixed ahead, hoping to make it to the crew quarters without another exchange with the salarian.

Unfortunately, this was not one of her lucky days. She'd barely taken two steps before Mordin called out her name, and she stumbled, dropping the lotion she'd been balancing under her arm onto the floor.

The salarian watched as the bottle rolled across the deck and headed straight under the table, clanking loudly as it traveled along the metal surface, stopping only when it made contact with his feet. Once it did, he bent down and picked up the item— because _of course_ he did—and turned it around in his hands. He sniffed, inhaling a huff of air through his nostrils as he examined the ingredients and shook his head in disapproval. "Insufficient. Soothing effect only temporary. No actual protection against chafing. Warned before; turians' plating tough on human skin. Can provide better solution. Ointment, lotion for both partners before and _after_ sexual activity."

Shepard squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she swallowed down the scream desperately trying to erupt from her throat. "Why are you still here?" she snapped when she opened them again, snatching the bottle out of the professor's hands and nearly dropping one of her bags onto the floor in the process. "I thought I told you to take the damn tour."

Mordin shrugged. "Already done. Told you; am familiar with layout."

"Fine." She shook her head and turned around, but before she could walk out of the mess hall and leave him behind, Mordin called after her.

"Shepard. Would like to talk."

Shepard sighed and looked over her shoulder. "Now?"

"Yes. Before others are here."

Mordin waited until she faced him again, and when she did, he gave her a warm smile.

"No need to be embarrassed about relationship with Vakarian. Aware that training, evaluating, not to mention mission to find mentor, make situation highly stressful. Releasing tension natural and beneficial both for turians and humans. Enjoy activities, but be careful. Presumably, no problems with allergies on either side, but if there are concerns, issues, can help. As mentioned, can provide treatment for chafing. Also, instructional pamphlets, videos about helpful sexual positions." The salarian's lips pursed into a thoughtful pucker as he tapped his chin with a long, slender finger. "Though latter might be irrelevant by now. Assume you and Vakarian have figured out things already. Would be interested in hearing about experience. Might collect data for future educational material for other human-turian couples."

Not often did it happen that Shepard found herself speechless, but now, it took her a long few seconds to snap her jaw, left hanging as she stared at the doctor, shut before she could collect herself enough to talk.

"What," she finally croaked out.

"Will prepare lotions this evening. Can deliver them to crew quarters before bedtime. Suggest waiting with sexual activity until then. If in need of any other help, let me know." Mordin leaned back in his chair, beaming a satisfied smile at the commander, then picked up the datapad and began examining his charts again.

Shepard stood dumbfounded as visions of Mordin waving his concoction in the air and declaring its purpose loudly for everyone to hear as he marched through the ship flashed up in her tired brain. She shook her head and let out a deep breath.

"Mordin."

The salarian looked up, seemingly surprised to see her still standing there. "Yes?"

"Look. I appreciate your offer. And yes, maybe your lotion would work better than what I have here." She lifted the bottle and shook it, then squeezed it under her arm again. "But could you please, _please_ , be a little more discreet about it? What Garrus and I have is... still new. And private. And... it wouldn't exactly be advantageous for us to let anybody know about it just yet. Especially not while we're still in the training program. Can you understand that?"

Mordin's eyes opened wide and he raised a lone finger in the air as a look of understanding spread across his scarred face. "Ah, yes! Societal pressures, cultural taboos. Should have thought of that. My apologies. Of course, Shepard. Do not worry. My lips are sealed." He drew a line across said lips as he pressed them together, and gave the human standing in front of him an empathetic nod.

"Thank you. Appreciate it."

Mordin hummed in acknowledgement, keeping his mouth tightly closed. "Mm hmm."

Shepard smiled, turned on her heels, and continued on her way to the crew quarters, with no more disruptions this time.

 

* * *

By the time Garrus walked through the door, ship tour done and room assignments settled, Shepard had already deposited their gear in the lockers near the entrance of their room, and sat down on one of the bunk beds to put a call in to Liara T'Soni. Garrus dropped down next to her, and watched as the holo screen lit up with the asari's image, his hand, conveniently out of view of the information broker's line of sight, resting gently on Shepard's knee.

Even through the hard ceramic of her armor, Shepard thought she could feel a pleasant warmth radiate out from his touch, but she did her best to ignore the wave of arousal that began to spread to her groin and concentrate on the broker's data stream.

To no-one's surprise, Bau's emphatic recommendation for Liara T'Soni's services had been spot on. The asari came through again, providing them with not only the flight plan of the ship Bau's kidnappers had rendezvoused with back on Watson, but the crew's final destination as well. According to her data, the ship had landed on Korlus in the Imir System of the Eagle Nebula, and had been stationed in the docks of a large Blue Suns facility since then.

The intel was encouraging, but Liara had no way of knowing whether the Suns had pulled off another prisoner transfer en route to Korlus or not, and, consequently, if Bau was actually on the planet itself. So, after thanking her for her help and signing off, Shepard started on the long process of contacting Kasumi Goto for some more information.

It took quite a few hoops to jump through to reach the elusive thief, but eventually they succeeded. The connection was voice only again. Kasumi sounded to be slightly out of breath, but she insisted that she could still talk.

"Nice to hear from you," she said, panting. There was a small grunt and a thump, and a second later, the sharp crack of a sniper rifle shot rang out in the distance.

Shepard exchanged a look with Garrus. Had the thief just taken a call in the middle of a firefight? Garrus raised a brow plate and shook his head, but before either of them could say something, Kasumi went on.

"I was going to contact you later today. When we were, umm, done here." She paused, the leather of her outfit creaking quietly as it rubbed against itself, then there was a whoosh, and a few seconds later, an explosion, followed by the screams of whoever had gotten caught in the blast somewhere. Then, silence. "I haven't received a signal from Bau's omni-tool for quite a while," Kasumi continued, "but last night, I got a ping from the relay in the Imir Sytem. Looks like he's been taken there. Unfortunately, the signal went dead again, so that's all I have. Better than nothing, though, right?"

Though the thief couldn't see it, Shepard nodded, her eyes fixed on Garrus. "Yeah. Thanks. That does help."

"Anytime. Give him my regards when you find him." Kasumi cut the connection, the mirth in her voice lighting up the room despite the dark clouds of annoyance hovering over Garrus's head.

He stood, the metal of his armor clinking against Shepard's leg.

"So, Korlus it is," he said as he headed for the door. "I'll go set course. Then we should eat something. I bet you're hungry."

 

* * *

Finding his way in the dark was not the easiest thing he'd ever done, but Bau was fairly sure he was making good progress as he crawled in the vents, peeking through the grills whenever he happened on one, trying to keep track of the number of mercs he saw in the rooms and corridors he passed by.

He felt as though he'd been on his hands and knees forever but, despite his aching arm and the progressively worsening bruises and scrapes on his palms, he kept on going, searching for that one spot he could leave his hiding place without the risk of being discovered.

Besides keeping out of sight, his priority was to get some kind of weapon. Without a functioning omni-tool and his pistol, he was at a great disadvantage, especially against the armored soldiers that patrolled the area, but if he could surprise one of them from behind... maybe he would have a chance.

Of course, all this would have worked better had the base not gone on full alert already. But, unfortunately, if all the shouting coming from the loudspeakers mounted on the walls were anything to go by, his absence had already been discovered, and search parties had been sent out all over the facility.

Yet, undeterred, Bau kept moving ahead. The voice of the base's commander, shrill and demanding as she kept shouting nastier and nastier orders at her goons, was getting on his nerves, but he tried not to shut out her words. Knowing the plans and movements of his opponents was one key to the success of this escape, and he was not going to give up that advantage.

His determined patience paid off in an unexpected way when he overheard something interesting. Apparently, he wasn't the only one on the Blue Suns' hit list. Between her rabid threats to hang anybody by the balls who didn't do their best to hunt the escaped Spectre down, the base commander had just screamed out a string of curses at a certain Okeer and ordered both the murder of "that damned krogan" and the total annihilation of his army of clones in the courtyard.

Bau paused, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he mulled over this new piece of information. Okeer. The name sounded familiar. There was a ruthless warlord during the Krogan Rebellions by that name, but that was hundreds of years before. Of course, krogan lived for a very long time—inconceivably long by salarian standards—, so it was not out of the question that it was the same person. Either way, this was disturbing news; not only for galactic peace, but for Bau's chances of slipping out of this place without being caught by a merc or getting killed by a charging krogan as well.

Regardless of the risks, going back to his cell and being put under round-the-clock surveillance with no means of another escape was not an option. So, he took a deep breath, ordered his brain to disregard the pain from his limbs, and crept on.

 

* * *

Eventually, Bau found a room with no visible occupants inside. He peered through the vent grate, trying to survey as much of the space as he could from his vantage point, and listened for a couple of minutes before he pushed the cover out and, as silently as he could, slid down onto the floor.

Everything was quiet, but there was a strange smell in the air, with clouds of some kind of green smoke wafting out of a register on the neighboring wall. Bau held his breath as he moved further into the room, away from the smoke. Whatever it was, it was dissipating now, but he was not about to take any chances. Not after getting this far.

Rounding the corner of a large desk, he came to a sudden stop as he noticed the bulking form of a krogan lying motionless on the floor. The Spectre stood for a moment, watching for any signs of movement, but there was none. If this was Okeer, then Jedore should be happy; her men had done their job.

Slowly, Bau approached the body. Where there was a warlord, there had to be a firearm as well, and he certainly hoped that this krogan would not be an exception.

At first look, however, he didn't find any. Still, he kept searching; unless he was unlucky enough to have the weapon stuck right underneath all that mass, at least one gun had to be somewhere. He lifted his gaze and scanned the room—and there it was, on a table, just a few feet away, right next to a... Holy Spirit of the Motherland. A large tank with a fully developed krogan inside.

Bau's feet froze to the floor as he stared at his discovery. So, the dead krogan _was_ Okeer, and this was one of his clones. The Spectre wondered what the council's reaction was going to be about all this once he'd gotten out of here and given them his report. He couldn't imagine they would be very happy about it.

The good news, on the other hand, was that this didn't seem to be a high-volume operation. There were no other tanks—at least, not here—, so hopefully that meant that there weren't going to be too many krogan soldiers to deal with on his way out.

Bau walked over to the table and picked up the shotgun (not his favorite weapon, but it would have to do), and cast one last glance at the clone before he headed to the exit.

He didn't get far. As soon as he'd taken a step, the door slid open, and a group of mercs poured in, guns raised and pointing right at his head, and for a split second, Bau's and the first soldier's eyes locked onto each other. It was the Spectre who moved first, vaulting over the table and flipping it over to take cover behind the metal surface.

The bullets came flying right away, whizzing through the air and biting into the wall above his head. Bau kept his body low, waiting for the opportunity to lean out and unleash the firepower of his borrowed weapon.

His chance came sooner than he'd expected; he couldn't see much from where he was, but he certainly heard the explosion of the glass as some of the shots tore through the clone's tank, followed by a loud crash as the body that had been encased inside until now came tumbling out.

Bau peeked over the top of the table. If he had hoped for an unresponsive specimen, he had to give up on that wish now. The clone was already gathering himself up from the floor, rising up to his full, impressive height. His eyes slid over to the Spectre's position, and for a moment, Bau thought the krogan was going to charge. And maybe he would have, if not for the barrage of bullets suddenly hailing down on his armored body from the direction of the mercs.

The clone staggered and spun around, facing his assailants, and with a mighty roar, took off towards their group. Bau joined his assault with a few well-placed shots from Okeer's gun, picking off the ones that had managed to escape his ad hoc teammate's wrath.

The battle didn't last longer than a few minutes, and left only Bau and his new best friend standing in the room. The krogan sniffed the air, wheeling around on his heels as he scanned for more enemies to fight. When he found none, his gaze darted back to the salarian.

Bau kept the shotgun level in his hand, his eyes fixed steadily on the tank-born creature as he marched closer, then stopped just a few inches from his face.

"Name," the krogan said, his voice rumbling deep in the quiet stillness of the room.

"Bau. Jondum Bau. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

"Not you. Me. What's my name?"

Bau blinked, confused. "I... do not have that information."

The krogan harrumphed, his blue eyes staring at the Spectre as he rambled on and on about the tank and the words of Okeer the device had imprinted in his brain. Bau tried to follow, but all he could think about was how remarkable it was that this being, born and raised in such a way and with no experience of his own, had emerged not only fully grown but obviously capable of thought and speech besides the basic instincts a newborn might have. Not to mention the fighting—the fighting was rather remarkable as well. It was a skill Bau could really use right now in his quest of getting out of this base alive.

"Grunt," the krogan said, finally coming to a conclusion about what to call himself. "Grunt will do."

Bau nodded. "All right, Grunt. What do you say we get out of this place?"

Grunt cocked his head as he considered the salarian's proposal. "Will there be battles?"

"I can guarantee it."

The krogan's upper lip lifted in a snarl. "Sounds good." He walked back to one of the bodies lying in a pool of blood by the door, and picked up the gun that had dropped from the man's fingers even before he'd hit the floor.

Looking over his shoulder, Grunt gave his new companion an excited grin.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go."


	30. Korlus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and bookmarks, and big thanks, cookies, and hugs to those of you who left a comment on the last chapter. Reading what you thought about an update always makes my day. :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.

Years of fighting crime, first as an STG recruit, then as a C-Sec officer, and finally, as a Special Tactics and Reconnaissance agent, had taught Jondum Bau to always, _always_ expect the unexpected, and to never underestimate anyone, friend or foe—a lesson he still hoped he would eventually get the chance to impart to his young protégés, provided he ever got to leave this cursed place.

And yet, if there was one thing he had _not_ expected when he'd embarked on his quest to escape the Blue Suns' less than cordial hospitality, it was that one day his life would be saved not by his own skills and ingenuity, but by the result of the genetics experiments of a now-dead krogan warlord.

While the implications of Okeer's clandestine endeavors were something Bau considered worthy of a thorough investigation in the future, he had to admit that, given the fierce resistance he and Grunt had met on their way to freedom, it was doubtful he could ever have gotten out of the Suns' base alive without the young krogan. Even if, by some miracle, he had managed to escape on his own, fighting the local wildlife while looking for food and shelter—especially with a damaged arm—would have been more than difficult to accomplish alone.

He wasn't quite sure what it was that had kept the tank-born krogan by his side, but Grunt had stuck by as they'd searched for a place to recoup, get their bearings, and hide until they figured out a way to get off this rock.

Bau had some suspicions about their location, but without a functioning omni-tool, he could only guess where they were. The place was littered with rusted metal and the gutted remains of decommissioned spacecraft, and although there were plenty of junkyards like this in the galaxy, there was only one planet he knew of that had these wrecks in such abundance.

Korlus. Probably.

That wasn't the worst news they could have had, but it wasn't good either. It certainly didn't make finding law enforcement or even a sympathetic soul they could ask for help very likely. If anything, revealing themselves to some unknown local would possibly be a very bad idea, especially if said local was in cahoots with the Suns or with any of the mercenary or criminal groups known to inhabit this corner of the galaxy.

That was a risk Jondum Bau was not willing to take—at least, not yet. Not until they had explored all their options and decided there was no other way.

One of those options was to find communications equipment, or at least some kind of beacon, in one of these shipwrecks that he could bring back online to contact Shepard and Vakarian or perhaps one of his colleagues, and hope for a rescue before the Suns' soldiers found them first (a possibility he could not ignore: they might have escaped their captivity, but he didn't believe for a second that Jedore would give up chasing after them that easily).

It took some time, but they eventually came upon the shell of an ancient ship stripped of her most useful parts but still containing the built-in communications system the scavengers had been unable to dislodge. As soon as he and Grunt had settled in, Bau got to work removing the panels, pulling out the wires and replacing whatever parts he could, and sneaking out to other wrecks in search of more leftover tech pieces he could use.

It was a slow and painful process, given the throbbing ache in his arm left behind by the blast that had fried his omni-tool, but Bau clenched his teeth and soldiered on, resting only for a quick meal and a short nap a couple of times a day.

The food was provided by Grunt's hunting trips, a task the krogan had taken upon himself with glee. Eating electrical-fire-roasted chunks of varren meat wasn't exactly fine dining, but at least they weren't starving, which made the fact that fixing the comm system took so long a little more tolerable.

Still, Bau couldn't help but wish he was back in his apartment already, sipping a mug of his favorite herbal tea and munching on delicate Sarosian grub cookies as he reclined in his armchair in front the holo vid, watching the Citadel news or perhaps one of those salarian period dramas he never really had the time to catch anymore, clean, and warm, and contented after a nice, hot shower.

His eyelids fluttered closed as he heaved out a sigh, his fingers dipping into his pocket to caress the wrapper of the candied beetle he'd stuffed in there all those weeks ago. The foil was no longer crisp, but it still felt cool and comforting to the touch, and he pulled it out to gaze at and admire its design.

"What's that?" Grunt asked, his blue eyes lighting up with curiosity. He tossed away the bone he'd sucked clean of any remaining meat and leaned closer to take a better look.

Bau held out his hand, his treasure balancing on his palm. "Candied _drael_ beetles. Straight from Sur'Kesh." He exhaled a wistful puff of air, the corner of his mouth stretching into a dark grin. "A true delicacy."

Grunt's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he swallowed. "Are you going to eat it?"

Bau shook his head. "No. The person I got it from is... less than a reliable food source. Everything she does, she has some kind of ulterior motive. I was going to get it analyzed for traces of poison or some other nefarious substance, but I didn't get the chance."

"Can I have it?"

Bau's forehead crinkled with a frown, his eyes narrowing in surprise as he gaped at his young associate. "Didn't you hear me? It could be poisoned or drugged or—"

"So?" Grunt shrugged, his gaze fixed on the treat with the same intensity he'd regarded all his prey in every battle they'd been in together. "I am _krogan_."

That... was actually a good point. Krogan were notoriously difficult to harm, whether with weapons or toxins; and even if one organ somehow did get damaged, their redundant biological system made sure that there was always another one ready to take its place.

"All right." Bau dropped the precious cargo from his hand into Grunt's outstretched palm. "But if you feel any ill effects—"

Grunt tore off the wrapping and popped the delicacy in his mouth, eyes closed and face beaming in contentment as he chewed and swallowed, and in less than two heartbeats, the treat was gone. "Got any more?" he asked, cocking his head and flicking his gaze to his partner's pockets.

"No. Well, not here. I have a whole box back in my apartment. I promise I'll give you some once we get out of here and make it to the Citadel."

Grunt gave a disappointed nod. "Oh. Good. Then get back to work on that... communication thing."

Bau smiled, and bent down to pick up the makeshift wrench he'd fabricated from a piece of rusty metal he'd found lying on the ground in one of the cabins of this dilapidated ship.

"That's the plan."

 

* * *

Kenn's fingers glided over the controls for one last adjustment, and the ship touched down, her belly gently coming to a stop on the ground. It was an impressive landing—one even Joker could appreciate, Shepard thought. She patted the quarian's shoulder in appreciation, and pushed away from the pilot's chair she'd been holding onto during their descent.

"All right. Stay glued to this spot, but at the first sign of trouble, get the hell out of here. Don't engage any enemies. We'll contact you when we're ready for a pickup."

"You got it."

Shepard turned around, adjusting her weapons in their magnetic holsters. Her gaze slid over to Garrus, then to Mordin, the two of them crowding the cockpit behind her, and she gave a small jerk of her chin at the general direction of the airlock door. "Okay. Let's get this show on the road."

Garrus tapped his visor with a nod and turned on his heels, Mordin following closely, and Shepard strode after them, a familiar wave of adrenaline starting to surge in her veins.

She almost bumped into the turian's back when both he and Mordin stopped abruptly.

"What do you think you're doing?" Garrus rumbled, his voice laced with startled irritation.

Shepard peeked around his broad shoulders, pushed past him with a sigh, and raised an eyebrow at the young woman blocking their way.

"I'm going with you," Tali said, her head held high and eyes shining defiantly behind her mask plate.

"The hell you are." Garrus pulled up to his full, imposing height, and glared at the quarian. "You're supposed to stay on the ship and mind the engines."

Tali waved a hand. "The engines are fine. I calibrated them to peak efficiency. They were a mess before, by the way." Garrus made a choking sound, but she ignored it. "I can be a bigger help on the ground."

Shepard shook her head. "Out of the question. Too dangerous. These people won't hesitate to kill a civilian and—"

"Neither did the pirates!" Tali cut in, her voice rising sharply. "And yet, I'm still here, while they're busy floating out there in space. Dead. Besides," she went on, detaching her weapon from her hip and raising it in the air, "As I said already, _I have a shotgun_."

Mordin chuckled, and Shepard and Garrus snapped their heads towards him in unison. The salarian smiled and opened his hands in a shrug. "Miss Zorah is right. Proved she can fight. Wouldn't worry about her."

Garrus glanced down at Shepard. She met his gaze, eyes locking onto each other for a moment of wordless communication. Finally, she huffed out a deep exhale, and turned back to the quarian.

"All right. But stay behind us, keep in cover, and follow orders. Got it?"

Tali's shoulders relaxed. In one fluid motion, she hooked her gun back into its holster and turned towards the airlock's door. "Yes, ma'am."

 

* * *

The size of their team might have changed, but the parameters of the rescue operation had not: staying hidden and avoiding alerting the enemy to their presence was essential if they wanted to find Bau alive.

As an ex-STG operative, Mordin was more than familiar with the concept. Tali'Zorah, on the other hand, was a new, untested cog in the machine, and, despite her earlier agreement about the quarian's inclusion, Shepard couldn't help the uncertain feeling that settled in her stomach as they set out towards the Blue Suns' base.

As it turned out, she needn't have worried. Tali obeyed orders, kept out of sight, and if anything, moved with the least amount of noise of all of them as they approached the outside guard and took him out, hiding his body behind a low wall.

In fact, her skill with her drone came in quite handy as they surveyed the terrain ahead of them. Tali put the drone on a silent run as she sent it out on a scouting expedition, and the data the machine brought back about the area was incredibly helpful in planning out the best route they could take inside.

The base was massive, which was both a blessing and a curse. The abundance of all those rooms and metal structures made it a bit easier to sneak around without being seen, but the task of finding the exact location the Suns might have been keeping Bau in this labyrinth was nothing short of daunting.

Shepard tried to scan for the signature Kasumi Goto had supplied to them, but got nothing. Most of the possible reasons for the lack of a positive result were troubling, but she pushed those thoughts out of her mind, and kept on going.

They split up a few times to cover a wider area, with Shepard taking Tali, and Garrus taking Mordin, but they tried not to get separated for too long, and met up again and again to continue their search as a silent, efficient, cohesive group. There were a few close calls when a couple of mercs almost got the chance to sound the alarm, but they didn't live long enough to achieve their goal.

The most interesting things, though, that they encountered, were some dead bodies, most of them hidden in out-of-the-way nooks and behind furniture, their necks snapped or their skulls smashed in with violent force, and a few with neat bullet holes between their eyes.

"Do you think it could be Bau? Maybe he managed to escape?" Shepard asked Garrus, her voice low, as they examined one of the corpses in the room they'd just sneaked into.

Garrus rose from his crouched position, mandibles fluttering. "I don't know. Maybe. But why hasn't he contacted us then? And where is he?"

Shepard chewed her lips, brows furrowed as she thought the situation over. "Perhaps he got hurt. Or they re-captured him." She sighed and stood up, flicking her gaze from the body to the door. "Well, let's keep looking."

The next few rooms were empty, save for some lockers and desks and equipments. The last one, though, on the top floor, held a surprise, one none of them had expected to find.

They could hear voices, one angry, one defiant, as they crept in and hid behind the solid metal railing lining the upper section. Shepard settled down next to Garrus and peeked over the barrier, her eyes opening wide as she caught the words spilling forth from a turian with chocolate brown plates and cream colored markings, towering over a Blue Suns merc sprawled out on her back on the floor.

"Where is he?" the turian demanded, his foot pressing into the throat of the woman, her face bruised and blood trickling in thin rivulets from her nose.

"Wouldn't you like to know." She spat, glaring at her tormentor through her pain.

He pressed down his foot, and she gasped, choking for air, her hands clawing at the metal boot in vain. "Where. Is. He," he repeated.

"He's dead!" the merc screamed out when he let off some of the pressure so she could talk. "I had the bastard killed. And you will follow him to hell if you don't release me you fucking pig—"

Shepard's heart froze in her chest. Her eyes darted over to Garrus, an unspoken, terrible question arching her brows. Was it... could they be talking about Bau?

Garrus glanced back at her, mandibles pulled tight to his face. "That's Nihlus Kryik," he whispered. "If he's here..."

Shepard took another look over the railing. Nihlus Kryik. _Spectre_ Nihlus Kryik. She remembered that name. He was supposed to be one of the potential mentors for her training program. Could he have learned about Bau's kidnapping and taken it upon himself to free him? Or, had the Council sent him, not trusting in her and Garrus's capabilities?

"Where's the body?" Nihlus growled, pointing his gun at the woman's head.

"What's it to you?" The turian cocked his gun, and she sputtered, waving a hand. "He's rotting on a pile of trash. Together with his damned failures."

"All right." Nihlus removed his foot from her throat and bent down, grabbing her by her arm and yanking her up to stand in front of him. Holding her tight, he shoved the barrel of his gun into her temple. "This is what's going to happen. We're going to walk out of here together. You're going to tell your men to stand down. And you're going to take me to Okeer's body."

Shepard exhaled, closing her eyes for a short, relieved moment. _Okeer_. Not Bau. That was good. Still, there was still that nagging little question about the whereabouts of the salarian.

"Wait," Shepard yelled over the top of the metal railing. The news about Bau's (hopefully) non-deceased state might have been the best thing she had heard all day, but she wasn't about to ruin a good thing by making the mistake of popping out of cover in front of a riled up Spectre. Not without identifying herself first. "I'm Commander Shepard. Alliance Navy. Before you go, I need to talk to this woman. Please."

After a short pause, Nihlus spoke. "Show yourself."

Shepard rose to her feet, hands up, her pistol pointed at the ceiling.

The Spectre's mandibles flicked out in a grin. "Ah. Commander Shepard. Nice to finally meet you. Nihlus Kryik. Not sure if you know this, but I was supposed to be your mentor. My apologies for not making it in time—I've been a bit busy. I heard Jondum Bau took you and Garrus Vakarian on for training." The woman in front of him made a sudden move, trying to tear her arm out of his grasp. Eyes still fixed on Shepard, he tightened his grip and snatched her back, and went on as if nothing had happened. "What are you doing here?"

Shepard lowered her hands and glanced down at Garrus. "We're... looking for someone."

Garrus stood, and inclined his head in a small nod. "Spectre."

Nihlus's eyes slid around the room. "Just the two of you?"

"No." Mordin rose from his crouched position, followed by Tali on his right.

"And Bau?"

" _That_ is the question." Shepard vaulted over the railing, landing in front of the merc, and pressed the cold metal of her pistol to the woman's forehead. "Where's Bau?"

The merc's eyes narrowed, hatred lighting up her irises like blazing fires on a cold, miserable night. "You tell me. That little piece of shit escaped. Again."

Shepard blinked, speechless for a moment as hope and disappointment fought for dominance in her brain. "If you're lying—"

"I'm not." Slowly, the merc turned her head towards a desk, careful not to trigger a bullet into her skull from either of the guns digging into her skin. "Check my files. There are plenty of reports about the breakout and the search for that asshole."

Garrus strode over to the desk, picked up a datapad, and began scrolling through it. "She's telling the truth."

"Wait. Wait. Wait a second," Nihlus said. "What's this about Bau?"

"You haven't heard?"

"No. I've been in deep cover for this mission. Couldn't risk any unnecessary communications. Been investigating a krogan scientist's genetic experiments and these people's attempt to build an army out of his clones."

Garrus finished downloading the data onto his omni-tool, and turned off the interface. "Spectre Bau was kidnapped several weeks ago by the Blue Suns. They're using him as a hostage in an attempt to exchange him for Vido Santiago. We've tracked him down to this base. Were hoping to find him unharmed. He _was_ unharmed, wasn't he?"

He glared at the merc; she shrugged her shoulders. "Sure." Nihlus increased the pressure on his gun boring into the woman's temple, and she hissed out a curse. "Well, he was still alive when he got away. No idea what happened after that. Maybe the krogan he broke out with has eaten him." She let out a vicious cackle, baring her blood-stained teeth, and raised her chin in defiance at Garrus's growl.

"Krogan?" Nihlus jerked his captive around to face him. His mandibles flared out, fangs glinting dangerously in the low light. "What krogan?"

The motion dislodged the guns crushing against her skull for a moment, and the merc dropped down, making use of the unexpected reprieve. Shepard slammed the butt of her pistol into the woman's temple, but it was too late. She had already managed to hit a button on her wrist, and there was that unmistakable metallic sound as two YMIR mechs, one in each corner by the large windows, activated.

_"Shit."_

 

* * *

Between five experienced fighters and one well-programmed drone, neither the merc nor the mechs had much of a chance. Still, it took a few minutes before the last bullet made its way into a synthetic casing, tearing it apart, and the sparks stopped arcing above the inert piles of metal.

As soon as the smoke cleared, Shepard poked her head out from behind the cover she'd dived into to take stock of the results of the battle.

Nihlus and her team were unharmed, but the Blue Suns soldier was not.

"Dammit," the Spectre said as he walked over to the bullet-ridden body of the base's commander, bent down, and turned her corpse over. "So much for getting more information out of her." He straightened up, and scratched the back of his neck. "Well, all right. Only one thing to do now."

Shepard nodded, readied her weapon, and nudged her head at the exit.

"Yeah. Let's go find Bau."


	31. Mission Results

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry this update is so late. I didn't have much time to write during the holidays, and there were several RL events that were less than motivating. But finally, here it is, chapter 31! Only one more left and then we can wrap up this story. I hope I can finish that one before Mass Effect: Andromeda comes out and everybody gets absorbed in playing the new game. ;)
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks, and special thanks to everybody who took the time to leave a comment on the last chapter. It's nice to know you enjoyed it, and I hope you'll like this one as well. :)
> 
> Big, big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.

Coming up empty-handed—yet again—might have been somewhat of a disappointment, but the fact that Jondum Bau was no longer under the Blue Suns' control was actually pretty good news.

For one, what the Suns didn't have, they could not hurt. And two, as a consequence of number one, with Bau gone, there was no reason now to stick to the shadows and to avoid contact with the mercs filling the base as Shepard and her team made their way out.

It was a setup they took full advantage of. The commander took point and led the charge through the corridors they'd avoided so carefully before, storming through the maze of hallways and descending on the enemy troops like a vengeful tornado. She let all the anger, all the stress, all the frustrations about Bau's kidnapping and their so-far fruitless search for him surge through her fingers and explode as a wave of violent, dark energy, hurling blue-and-white armored bodies against the walls and letting the others pick them off when they crumpled to the ground.

Caught by surprise, the Suns didn't mount much of a resistance—at least, not for a while. Of course, no good thing could last forever—especially not when it came with as much noise as they were making—and by the time the team reached the second floor, the Suns had finally managed to gather their collective wits about them and organize a counter-offensive.

The trap the mercs had prepared was not particularly obvious at first. The room—a large chamber with a few metal crates and a couple of old pieces of equipment—appeared to be vacant, with only a cloud of dust swirling in the air. And yet, there was something about it that made the hair on the back of Shepard's neck stand up. Perhaps it was the lock, red and foreboding, on the door at the far end of the room, or the shaft of light illuminating the central area while the rest remained veiled in darkness.

Shepard stopped, straining to peer into those shadows, wondering if the shapes she thought she saw were barricades and if that, right there, was some movement—or had she just imagined that?

Her question was answered when an arm shot up over that dark form and something round flew through the air.

"Grenade!" Tali's voice, startled and frantic, called out.

The team scattered, scampering into the nearest cover they could find. Shepard muttered a string of curses and dove behind one of the metal crates, detaching her sniper rifle from the back harness as she ducked down. Shrapnel and chunks of the rusty floor rained down around them, and she waited for a few moments for the air to clear before she poked her head up over the crate, trying to give away as little of herself as she could as she surveyed the aftermath.

The middle of the room had filled with red-hot flames and thick smoke, which made pinpointing the enemy's location somewhat of a challenge. A challenge, but not impossible with the right equipment—which, thanks to Garrus's gift, she _had_.

Raising the scope of her sniper rifle to her eye, she took a look around, scanning the environment through the thermal mod she had installed weeks ago. Judging by the glowing shapes she could now pick out, her teammates had taken up positions on her left and right. It wasn't too difficult to pick out Mordin and the quarian girl, but it took her a moment to distinguish the two turian figures from each other. They had both knelt behind a blocky crate, elbows propped up on the top, sniper rifle in hand. Their posture was a perfect mirror of each other—the result of the same old military training they had both gone through, no doubt—but their armor had a slightly different shape and only one of their heat signatures displayed the outline of a visor over one eye.

Garrus on the right, then.

Shepard continued the scan, noting the large number of mercs up ahead and fanning out along the walls, Mordin a bit to the back, already sending out a spray of supercooled particles to freeze a group as they were about to vault over a low wall, and Tali directing her drone to pay a visit to the three troopers on her left.

Before Shepard could decide on a target, the roar of a rocket blast pulled her attention away from her survey of the battlefield, and she ducked back down just in time to avoid getting her head blown off as a ball of fire whizzed above her cover. It slammed into the wall behind her, spreading a shower of flaming debris in an impressively wide area around the point of impact.

Her shields beeped an annoyed warning as the shrapnel from the explosion battered her body, but they held (though just barely). She waited the few seconds it took for her shields to recharge and crawled a couple of feet away from her original position to a new spot. As soon as the alarm had died off, she rose up on one knee and took aim at the direction the blast had come from. She got a batarian with a missile launcher in her sight, and she took a breath, curling her finger around her rifle's trigger.

The batarian's head exploded before she could take her shot.

"Scratched one," Garrus crowed in her ear over the comm channel, and, despite a slight irritation over her stolen kill, she smiled, turning her attention to the now-dead merc's companion already bending down to pick up the discarded weapon.

He didn't get to use it; as soon as he had straightened up, Shepard dispatched a neat shot into his brain, and the man's body collapsed, disappearing behind a wall of beaten up boxes and crates.

"Nice," she heard Nihlus say, and after that, it was just fire and explosions and the roar of the battle as shots from two and a half dozen assorted weapons thundered in the confined space, shredding shields and covers and armored forms and spraying jagged bits of corroded metal through the air.

She was in the _zone_ , moving from one shelter to another, picking off as many enemy combatants as she could while keeping an eye on the rest of her team and the number of Blue Suns still in play. Which, annoyingly, seemed to refill every once in a while, as though supplied by a spigot with a never-ending reserve of warm bodies.

Her lips pressed together in irritation, and she took a short break from shooting the place up. She scanned the area once more, this time looking for the source of the troop replenishments.

Aaand... she found it: a side door, dark and barely visible behind a thick column, right next to Garrus's current location.

She watched helplessly, her heart skipping a beat in her chest as Garrus stalked forward and settled down behind some rotted-out, ancient machinery, unaware of that damned door sliding open and spilling out a fresh group of Blue Suns troops behind his back.

Shepard sucked in a breath, letting it out with a desperate shout of his name, her voice muffled by the rat-a-tat of the shots the Suns were already sending into Garrus's shields and the rumble of the flamethrower one of them had just activated and aimed at his body.

Trapped in a crossfire and his escape route blocked, Garrus turned around and launched himself at the group, smashing in the skull of the closest soldier with the butt of his rifle, his attention immediately on the next merc as soon as his victim's body had fallen at his feet. He grabbed him by the throat, cutting off his air supply with a tight squeeze, and snapped his neck with a jerk. This one, he didn't let fall; he kept him close, right in front of him as a shield as he snatched the shotgun from his limp hand and shot another trooper in the chest.

His own shields, assaulted by the incessant barrage of bullets from the remaining three soldiers and the flames from the Pyro's Firestorm, died in that moment.

Shepard was already on her way, her tech armor charged and screaming a desperate warning as she dashed across the battlefield, ignoring the hail of enemy fire hammering her body. She made it just as Garrus collapsed onto his knees, and her tech armor exploded in a violet pulse of concentrated energy, sending every single Blue Suns soldier within a ten yard radius sprawling on the ground.

A spray of bullets from her SMG made sure they would not get up again.

She paid special attention to the Pyro, his smirk from before replaced by a shocked, sightless stare, and emptied an entire clip into his cursed body until a hand pushed down on her arm and Nihlus's voice rumbled in her ear.

"He's dead enough."

Shepard disagreed, but she gave the Spectre a slow nod nonetheless.

The room was silent now, the rest of the enemies having been dispatched by her team, and she turned around, looking for Garrus. He sat propped up against one of the surviving crates, eyes closed, his armor stained with blue blood. Mordin was already kneeling next to him, scanning for injuries and applying some kind of ointment to the right side of his face, raw and singed where the Pyro's flames had burnt off the upper layer of his hardened skin.

Shepard's stomach dropped into her feet. "How is he?" she asked, sinking down to Garrus's side. Garrus opened his eyes, his gaze sliding over to her, and he made a move to get up. Mordin pushed him back down.

"Couple shots got through. Also, burn damage," the doctor replied without taking the time to look at Shepard. "May be some scarring, at least for next few months, but will survive."

"I'm all right. Just… give me a moment," Garrus said, voice rough and mandibles pulled tight to his face. His lungs sucked in a sharp breath as Mordin released the latches of his shoulder guard and cut away part of his underarmor to treat the wound beneath.

"Injury not deep," the salarian remarked as he patched his patient up. "Applied disinfectant, medi-gel. Can take closer look on ship."

Shepard nodded. "You two should head back as soon as we've made it out of this place. I'll give Kenn the coordinates and he can—"

"No." Garrus nudged Mordin's hand away and, despite his obvious discomfort, began putting his armor back on. "I'm fine. I can go on."

"Garrus."

"As mentioned, injury not deep," Mordin said. He shoved his medical kit into a pocket and stood up. "Medi-gel already knitting wound together. Can supply more analgesic when needed."

"Thanks, Mordin." With a half-swallowed grunt, Garrus rose up off the floor, trying not to stagger as he straightened his back to his full height.

Mordin put a finger up in the air. "However. Any feelings of dizziness, blurred vision, shortness of breath, unbearable pain—let me know immediately."

"Will do."

Shepard sighed. She didn't like it, but she knew if she were in Garrus's place, she would do the same thing. "Okay." Without thinking, she laid a hand on the uninjured side of his face, her fingers running across his still-hot plates in a gentle, involuntary caress. "But don't push yourself."

She turned on her heels and nearly smacked her face into the breastplate of the other turian standing right behind her.

Nihlus flicked out a mandible, his green eyes glinting with amusement.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. What the hell was so funny?

The Spectre leaned back on one long leg, the butt of his rifle resting against the jut of his hip as his gaze flitted between Bau's two protégés. "Are all Alliance soldiers so… _affectionate_? If I'd known, I would have enrolled in your military a long time ago."

He huffed out a jovial laugh, but Shepard was in no mood to join him. Her face turned a darker shade of pink as blood rushed to her cheeks, and she pulled out a fresh heat sink without a reply, busying herself with snapping it into her pistol and checking the firing mechanism.

Dammit. So much for keeping her relationship with Garrus a secret.

She hoped the subject was going to be dropped without another comment, but, of course, Mordin just had to say something.

"Ah, yes," he started, keeping his eyes on the Spectre and avoiding Shepard's annoyed gaze, "Shepard and Vakarian been working together for months. Humans known to develop feelings of camaraderie with teammates. Helps strengthen bond, makes group fight better together. Can be useful in stressful situations. Very interesting biological response, rooted in evolution and societal history of the species."

Eyelids fluttering and his head bobbing up and down with excitement, he launched into a long lecture about the human psyche and brain, only stopping when Nihlus finally raised a hand to quell the flow of seemingly never-ending words pouring out of the doctor's mouth.

"Well, then," the Spectre said, waving at the quarian standing in front of the exit door, her fingers flying over her omni-tool and working furiously to hack into the controls. "Time to join Miss Zorah and find a way out of here."

Mordin nodded, his eyes only sliding over to Shepard's face once the turian had turned away. He beamed at her, his lips stretching into a wide-lipped smile. Had he been human, she was pretty sure he would have winked at her.

Shepard smiled back. Maybe bringing the old salarian on this trip hadn't been as bad an idea as she'd originally thought.

 

* * *

Compared to the number of troops that had flooded the second floor, the rest of the building appeared to be practically deserted. A few last stragglers tried to make a desperate stand here and there, but they posed no more threat than a child with a toy pistol would, and Shepard's team managed to make it out without any further complications.

All that was left to do now was to find Bau—a task that, without any reliable information about his whereabouts, was easier said than done.

Scanning for the signature of Kasumi's tampered candy brought still no results, and the commander's attempt at communicating with their mentor was equally unsuccessful. The message she sent to his personal account went unanswered, and the comm system they'd used on their previous missions merely returned buzzing static in her ear.

It wasn't the best of news, but they had no time to dwell on their frustrations. The sun was slipping lower and lower on the horizon, and they only had a few more hours of daylight left for the search.

The question was, where to start.

"Look at it this way," Nihlus said, pulling up a nicely detailed satellite map of the area on his omni-tool. "If you were in Jondum's shoes, where would you go?"

Shepard chewed on her lower lip. "I'd try to get as far away as I could. And I'd search for a way to get off this rock. A ship, preferably, or, if that's not an option, a comm system to send a message from."

Garrus made a humming sound in his throat. "According to the base commander's datapad, it's been several days since his escape. Given that we haven't heard from him in this time, I think it's safe to assume that he's been unsuccessful on both fronts. At least, as far as finding a ship or sending a message is concerned. What he's been successful at has been avoiding the Suns—and from what I've seen in those files, they've tried, really, _really_ tried, tofind him. He must be holed up somewhere, waiting for rescue." He drew a finger through the holographic map, circling an area with a small stream cutting across it a couple of klicks away. "And if I were him, I'd choose a place like this. Somewhere with a source of fresh water."

"I agree." Nihlus zoomed in on the spot, his brows stiff with a frown as he examined the stretch of land and the rotting skeletons of ancient ships dotting its surface. "He'd also need shelter. And maybe some old tech he could use."

Tali's gaze flicked from the map to the Spectre's face, her eyes lighting up behind her mask. "You think there's still some functional tech in those ruins?"

"Not a whole lot, since most vessels brought here end up being stripped of anything that's not nailed down and still has some value, but if there's anybody who could cobble together a beacon or some kind of device out of a few pieces of cable and a switch board, it's Jondum Bau." Nihlus's mandibles flittered as he seemed to consider something. After a moment, he raised his free hand and pressed his fingers against his forehead, rubbing the finely tattooed plates over his green eyes. "Though, if he hasn't sent out a message until now…"

Shepard's lips turned down in a stubborn line as she stared at the map. "Maybe he just hasn't found the right equipment yet. I'm sure he's still out there somewhere—we just have to figure out where that is."

"I hope you're right." Nihlus glanced up at the sky and scanned the horizon in the distance. "Not much daylight left. We should form two teams to save time." Returning his attention to the map, he drew a circle around the left side of the area Garrus had pointed out before. "I suggest that Commander Shepard and I check out this section. The rest of you could start from the right, and then we'll meet up in the middle. Agreed?" He shut off his omni-tool and looked up, fixing first Shepard, then Garrus with a questioning gaze.

Shepard's eyes darted to Garrus. He seemed about as happy about the prospect of splitting up as she did. Still, the Spectre's plan made sense, so they both gave him an unenthusiastic affirmative without a complaint.

At least, there were no _spoken_ words of complaints. Yet, there was definitely some kind of non-verbal communication going on between the two turians that Shepard's human ears were unable to pick up. All she could see were some annoyed mandible-flicking on Garrus's part and a wide grin on Nihlus Kryik's face.

Whatever _that_ was about, it all stopped when Nihlus clapped her on the shoulder and gestured to their left, and Garrus turned around and stomped away. Mordin followed Garrus without a word, while Tali gave Shepard a cheery wave before she adjusted her shotgun in her hand and hurried after them.

"Shall we?" Nihlus asked, amusement still dancing in his eyes.

Shepard took one last glance at the rest of her team's backs before she gave the Spectre a nod.

"Yeah."

 

* * *

"Can that thing scan for specific bio signatures?" Nihlus asked as they made their way down a set of rusty stairs. The metal creaked and crumbled with every step, shedding flakes of brown oxidized paint onto the barren ground below.

Shepard glanced down at Kasumi's program running on her omni-tool. "No. At least, I don't think so. It's only calibrated to detect a certain compound Jondum Bau might have in his system."

"Hmm. So it can't tell us if there's a salarian or a krogan close by?"

"No." Shepard chewed on her lip, thinking about what the base's commander had told them about the tank born krogan Bau had fled the facility with. "Do you think they are still together? The krogan and Bau?"

Nihlus hopped off the last step and pushed the barely recognizable remains of a warped door panel aside. "Who knows. Worried the krogan _has_ eaten your mentor?" He looked over his shoulder at her, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Of course not." She waved a hand, dismissing the Spectre's joke with a confidence she wasn't sure she actually felt. "Just wondering."

"They might have stuck together," Nihlus mused, voice more somber this time. "Better chances of staying alive that way. I certainly wouldn't say no to a krogan's help in fighting off wildlife and search parties. The question is, though, what would the krogan's motivation be? Why would he stick around?" He stopped, and gave Shepard a thoughtful look. "From what I've learnt about Okeer's breeding program, he created these creatures—these _clones_ —to form a genetically advanced troop of warriors. If that is the case, this specimen Bau had broken out with might only be interested in war. As long as he has an enemy to fight, he might stay with Bau. Or, he might have killed him, since that's what he was bred for, then taken off to find some new targets to fulfill his destiny." He turned and continued walking, picking his way through the ruins of a gutted spacecraft. "Either way, I'll have to find him. Alive, if possible. I'd like to question him; find out what he knows about those genetic experiments. Maybe run some tests."

Shepard swallowed down a sigh. The turian's logic was irrefutable, but she hoped things weren't nearly as bad as his second scenario had implied. And yet… she'd seen enough, especially since Mindoir, to know that hope and reality weren't always the best of pals.

"So," Nihlus said, interrupting Shepard's dark thoughts, "you and Vakarian, eh?"

She startled, her eyes darting from the ground at her feet to the back of the turian's spiky head in front of her. "What?"

"You two seem to be getting along quite well."

Shepard's brows creased into a frown. What was he getting at? His voice sounded neutral, almost amused, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he might be laying some kind of trap with his jokes and comments about the relationship between herself and Garrus. Nihlus Kryik was a Spectre, after all, reporting to the Council; it would make sense, especially if he'd been meant to be her original mentor, as he'd said, that he would still evaluate her actions and submit a report on them even if she'd eventually ended up with Bau. _Especially_ if Bau had been… incapacitated and was no longer able to perform his duty.

She took a breath, taking a long moment before giving him a reply, careful and evasive. "Actually, it didn't start out that way. But we've been working together as a team for months now, and we've developed a certain kind of, ah, _respect_ for each other. I value Officer Vakarian's skills, and I think he values mine."

Nihlus turned back to her, his mandibles spread wide in a grin. "I bet he does. He certainly seemed to—"

Shepard's omni-tool beeped an alert, and she raised her arm, staring down at the scanning program suddenly alive with a series of readouts and a small radar map. A red, glowing dot stared back at her at the outer edge of the map's range, about a hundred feet away.

Bau.

"I got a hit," she said, excited.

Nihlus took a look. "Excellent. Let the others know we've found him and give them the coordinates."

He took off without waiting for an answer, and she cursed, tapping on her earpiece as she hurried after him.

 

* * *

She caught up with Nihlus the moment a silver armored bundle of muscle barreled out of the charred carcass of a wreckage and slammed into the turian, sending him flying nearly a dozen feet in the air. Nihlus landed hard, his body bouncing along the rocky ground a good ten seconds before he stopped, dazed and sprawled out on his back.

The krogan charged after him with a victorious laugh, raising his shotgun and aiming it at the Spectre's head.

Shepard sucked in a breath and snapped out her arm, throwing a wave of energy at the bulky figure just as Nihlus's shields flickered back to life. The krogan staggered, stumbling away from the prone body, but didn't fall. Time seemed to slow down as he turned around, his blue eyes focusing on the new threat, and he snarled, preparing another charge.

Shepard readied her pistol and took aim, irises nearly swallowed by her pupils as she watched the krogan break into a lumbering run. Her brain, frantically churning over all the options she knew of when it came to dealing with the infamous blood rage of his kind, barely processed Nihlus's words as he clambered up from the ground and slapped a new round of ammo into his gun.

"Don't kill him!"

A concussive shot from the Spectre's weapon slammed into the krogan's barrier with a loud bang, but he shook it off, and Shepard backed away, her fingers curling into the mnemonics ingrained into her muscles through years of training, and she tossed out a warp, manipulating the mass effect field of her biotics to strip away her advancing enemy's enhanced armor.

The blue halo shimmering around the krogan's body fizzled and flickered out, and she smiled, readying another burst of biotic surge and hoping she had enough time left to send it out before her opponent got too close.

She didn't get her wish; with an eardrum-shattering roar, the krogan leapt forward and crashed into her body with the force of a runaway freight train, driving her back into the sheer cliff wall behind her.

Her breath knocked out of her lungs, she gasped for air, coughed, and nearly lost her grip on her pistol as he shoved his forearm into her throat.

Blue eyes stared at her as he leaned closer, sniffing at her scent. Shepard took the chance to push the barrel of her weapon into a gap in the krogan's armor at his hip, ready to send a bullet through the undersuit into his flesh. Over the blood hammering in her ears, she faintly heard Nihlus cry out, admonishing someone to keep the krogan alive.

"Dammit, I'm not going to let him kill her!" Garrus roared back, his voice thick with rage, somewhere to her right.

As much as Shepard appreciated the sentiment, Nihlus was right: they did need this mass of ferocious energy alive, at least until they'd gotten every little bit of information out of him as they could about the location of Jondum Bau.

"Everything's under control," she wheezed out as loudly as she could, which wasn't a whole lot, given her constricted air flow, but she hoped Garrus had heard it anyway. Still, just in case, she dug her gun deeper into her opponent's gut.

Whether the krogan felt it or not, she wasn't sure. He snarled, and simply said, ignoring the people around them, "You don't look like the others. You don't smell like them either."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "The others?"

"The soldiers from the base. Blue Suns."

"Well, yeah. I'm not one of them. I'm Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy, and—"

The krogan's arm at her neck went slack, and he stepped back, looking her up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment on the pistol in her hand. A flash of understanding lit up his eyes, and his lips stretched into a knowing grin, but he made no comment about his discovery.

"Shepard?" he said, his voice rumbling with a warmth that hadn't been there before. "You came?"

She nodded, resisting the urge to rub the front of her neck. "You've heard of me?"

Whether the fact this creature knew about her was a good thing or not, it remained to be seen, but the changed atmosphere certainly helped. Regardless, the bigger question was, where was Bau? Kasumi's program had indicated that he was in the vicinity. Could he be nearby? She lifted her left arm and blinked down at the scanning program still alive on her omni-tool. That red, glowing dot was… right in front of her now.

Dread and suspicion tightened her stomach into a hard knot. To get that hit, Bau must have eaten the candy—so why was the signal coming from this krogan now?

"Where's Bau?" she asked, tightening her grip on her pistol. Was the Blue Suns commander's quip not a joke after all? No, that couldn't be…

"Back at the camp. Follow me."

The krogan turned around, and Shepard exhaled a long breath, her cheeks heating up for the second time on this mission with awkward embarrassment.

She wanted to slap her forehead. _Of course_ the Spectre was alive. _Of course_ the krogan hadn't eaten Bau.

 

* * *

Shepard's heart nearly exploded in her chest when, after a long trek through rocks and corroded metal walls, they finally pushed past the remaining half panel of a dented-in door and caught sight of the salarian inside the wreckage of an ancient ship.

He was sitting on the floor in front of some kind of archaic equipment, its display dark and its service panel open, his hands deep inside the tangle of wires spilling out of the belly of the machine.

"Back already?" he asked without turning around. "Found the cable I wanted?"

"Spectre Bau," Shepard called out. She hoped her voice hadn't sounded as shaky as she felt.

Bau's head whipped around, the sudden movement banging his horns into the upper edge of the panel. "Shepard? Vakarian?" he said, rubbing his skin as he gathered himself up off the floor.

Shepard smiled. "Yes. And Professor Mordin and Spectre Nihlus Kryik and a friend we picked up on Omega. Boy, we're glad we've finally found you."

Garrus stepped around her and walked up to the salarian. "Are you all right?"

Bau sighed. "I am _now_. Well, except my left arm. One of the Suns got me pretty bad when he fried my omni-tool."

Mordin hurried over and began a scan, pursing his thin lips and shaking his head at the results. "Need treatment. Have some ointment on hand, but injury too old. Medical facility on Citadel can do more."

"I'm… certainly looking forward to getting out of here." Bau's eyes slid from one person to the next, and he gave each of them a grateful smile. "Thank you for coming for me. I've been trying to get this communication system started, but had no luck. I can't wait to hear all about how you found me."

"That's a story I'm interested in, too," Nihlus said.

Bau blinked. "Weren't you sent by the Council to take over as their mentor and track me down?"

"No. I was here on a different mission. It was by coincidence that we met. I hadn't even had any idea that you'd been kidnapped." Nihlus's gaze flicked to the krogan. "Speaking of which, I'd really like to have a chat with your… companion."

Bau cocked his head as his eyes slid from Shepard to Garrus, and he seemed to ponder what he'd just heard for a moment before he gave a nod of understanding, then turned his attention back to his colleague. "His name is Grunt. He's been an enormous help, both during my escape from the Suns' base and after. I've already found out everything there is to know about his background, so you can talk to _me_ about it if you wish."

On the surface, his voice was calm, but Shepard couldn't help noticing a certain amount of annoyance and protectiveness in his tone. That was... interesting.

Apparently, the turian had similar thoughts. His brows lowered over his eyes and his mandibles flicked out in agitation as he leaned back on one hip and crossed his arms. "I've been investigating Warlord Okeer, his creator, and Okeer's genetic experiments to cure the genophage for quite a while. I _need_ to talk to him. I'm sure you understand."

Bau glanced over at Grunt and gave him a questioning look. The young krogan shrugged, but didn't say anything. Bau turned back to Nihlus. "You can talk to him once we're on the Citadel. But. I'll be his counsel during the interrogation. Right now, however, I'd really like to get back to whatever ship my students have arrived on, and take a shower."

He glanced around, as though checking if he was leaving anything important behind, then gestured at the door they'd come through.

"With that said, I'm more than ready to get out of here if you are."


	32. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time, I said there would be one more chapter, then this story would be done. Well, that one chapter got so long that I decided to split it into two for easier reading. I'm posting both together, though, so here's the first part.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks, and lots of thanks to those of you who took the time to leave a comment on the last update. I really appreciate it! :)
> 
> Big thanks to Suilven for beta reading.

Jondum Bau honestly could not remember a time he'd been this happy to walk through the door to his apartment.

Of course, it had always been nice to return for a little rest after a long mission, but he doubted he'd ever appreciated the soft carpet under his feet, or the supple pillows behind his back on the couch, or the breathtaking views of the Citadel through the floor to ceiling windows of his living room quite as much as he did now.

Even his usual security checks felt comforting; accessing the apartment's VI, scanning for any disturbances, making sure that nothing had been changed—each step of his old routine helped bring back one more layer of his sense of safety and personal freedom his kidnapping had destroyed.

Satisfied that everything was all right, he roamed aimlessly around his home, running gentle fingers along the top of a lamp here, the curves of an abstract hanar statue there, and inhaled deeply, letting his lips curl into a smile as he turned his hand over to examine his fingertips.

No dust. That was good. It seemed Chel had finally gotten his act back together and had done what he had asked for in the note he'd sent his cousin on their way to the Citadel: a clean apartment and a fridge stocked with food—which he was very much looking forward to enjoying, just as soon as he'd waded through the messages that must have accumulated in his inbox during his absence.

Not willing to waste another moment, he strolled into his office, sat down at his desk, and started up the computer. The display flickered on with a soothing hum, and Bau entered his code to open up the mail program, expecting to find a long list of updates and requests for instructions from his contacts he hadn't been able to speak to in weeks.

The number of messages was even more staggering that he'd expected. There were, indeed, quite a few from associates and aides and collaborators, but the bulk consisted of increasingly worried missives from his family, demanding to know if he was all right, then, more recently, expressing relief at the news of his rescue. One letter had come from the maintenance company responsible for upgrading the _Inandra,_ letting him know that, since C-Sec had considered his ship a crime scene and had sealed off the entire area for their investigation, no-one had been allowed to enter the vessel and, consequently, no more work had been done on the upgrades.

This was not the best of news, but it was understandable. Besides, it wasn't as though Bau could hop on his ship and go off on a new mission anytime soon: he had already checked in with Huerta Memorial and scheduled the surgery Mordin had insisted he needed to fix the nerve damage and the burns on his arm and to fit him with a new omni-tool. The procedure would take place in a few days, and after that, he would probably be kept for observation and treatments on the skin grafts for quite some time.

Still, he hoped his inactivity was not going to last too long. Sooner or later, he would need his ship back in working order, so he fired off a message to C-Sec, citing Spectre authority in his request for the release of the _Inandra_ to the maintenance crew.

His index finger still resting on the _Send_ button, he wondered what had happened to the poor foreman caught in the crossfire during his battle with the Blue Suns on the engineering deck. According to Shepard and Vakarian, he was still alive when they'd found him.

Bau sincerely hoped he'd survived. He liked Arstan; he had always been professional and efficient, never complaining about the Spectre's exacting demands, and delivering all work on time. It would be a shame to lose him.

Ignoring the rest of his messages for the moment, he opened up the note from the maintenance company and sent a quick reply, informing them about the impending release of his ship into their care, and asking for an update on the status of the old foreman.

His stomach growled, reminding him that the last meal he'd had was back on the rental ship right before Nihlus Kryik had docked his own vessel on the Cidadel and had come on board the _Blue Nebula_ to interview the tank-born krogan.

Bau frowned, his lips pursing in irritation at the memory. The meeting had been charged, with Kryik pushing for details Grunt clearly did not have. As a fellow Spectre, he understood his colleague's frustration, but as far as he was concerned, there were times when you just had to let it go. Especially when the subject of your interrogation was a young krogan with only a few weeks' worth of life experience. Not to mention stubborn as a _shaffa,_ and always ready to pick a fight.

It was a miracle Grunt had even agreed to Mordin taking some blood and tissue samples for Nihlus Kryik's investigation—and _that_ had only happened once Shepard had convinced him that it would be a test of his strength and courage to endure the procedure.

Nihlus had disembarked soon after that, Mordin had withdrawn to his room to make a reservation for a flight to Omega, and Bau had left Grunt in Shepard and Vakarian's care while he traveled back to his apartment for a much-needed rest and a change of clothes.

And some food. Some honest-to-goodness, real, cooked food instead of the freeze-dried meals his students had stocked the pantry with on their rented ship.

His stomach let out another plaintive whine and, for a moment, he considered leaving the rest of his mail for after he'd eaten something, but he knew he would feel too guilty to enjoy the food if there were still things to be done. So, he opened up his inbox again, and set to finishing his task.

Luckily, there weren't too many messages left, just the usual spam (how they always got through his filters, he had no idea, but perhaps it was worth investigating the issue sometime), hawking everything from pet food to a plethora of different pills and ointments to "enhance sexual pleasure and performance," and a welcome home letter from his asari neighbor, inviting him over for a drink whenever he had a little time. He groaned, hoping that drink was _not_ that horrible cactus juice she'd pushed on him before. He decided to ignore this one for now, then mass-deleted all the spam, and almost got up from the desk when a new message flashed up on his screen.

It was the maintenance company, letting him know that Arstan Ipon had survived, though he was still under medical care in one of the hospitals in Shalta Ward. Bau exhaled a relieved huff of air, and made a mental note to send a box of delicacies to his room.

Perhaps, a box of _drael_ beetles… Like the ones Kasumi Goto had sent him.

The thought made him frown. Had he seen that box when he'd made his rounds around the apartment?

He stood from his chair, and headed straight for the kitchen, an uneasy feeling beginning to settle in his chest. He needed that package. It was a piece of rare physical evidence, one Kasumi Goto rarely left behind. She might have facilitated his recovery, but she was still a criminal who had tricked him into downloading a virus to his omni-tool and attempted to infect his body with an unknown compound, and he was determined to send the entire package to C-Sec's labs for a thorough examination. As for his promise to Grunt about the contents, he could always just buy another box and share it with him and—

The box was _not_ on the counter where he'd left it. In fact, it was not visible anywhere in the tidy kitchen.

Bau's lips pressed together, thinning into a displeased line. Granted, Chel had been here, so maybe he'd put it away when he'd cleaned the place. Perhaps it was in one of the cabinets?

He opened one door, then another. And—ah. There it was.

He lifted the box off the shelf and turned it around in his hands. It was beautiful, classy, and colorful, except… this was not the same one he'd received. There was no ribbon, no message chip, and the box had not been opened. It was still sealed, the shiny plastic around the edges pure and unbroken.

Despite the cold dread beginning to pool in his stomach and already knowing what he was going to find (or, rather, _not_ find), he opened every single cabinet door and drawer, and even took a peek inside the refrigerator (filled with his favorite dishes—incredibly enticing, but there was no time for that now). The other box, the one from Kasumi Goto, was gone.

His head tilted in concentration and he scratched the skin over one of his horns as he contemplated to issue. He had checked his surveillance feed, and nobody, besides Chel, had come to his apartment. Security had not been tripped either, so there had been no entry through any other means.

He walked back to his office, sat down at his desk, and dialed up his cousin.

"Jondum!" Chel greeted him as soon as his face flickered up on the screen. "You're back! Are you all right? We were all so worried about you! I trust you found your place in order? I did everything you asked and—"

Jondum Bau held up a hand. "Chel. Where's the box of candied _drael_ beetles that I left on the kitchen counter?"

Chel blinked, the tips of his horns turning a darker shade of green. "Uh, I put it in one of the cabinets. I took special care to clean the countertops and—"

"That's not the same box and you know it. The one I had before was opened, and one piece was missing. The box I've just found is unopened. So, I ask again: Where. Is. The box I left on the counter."

"I, uh… Well, you see, this is what happened."

Bau took a deep breath. This was not going to be good.

His cousin rubbed the skin under his right eye, and continued. "When you went missing, the entire family was in an uproar. They kept bombarding me with messages, demanding to know what had happened, why there was no rescue mission, was there any clue in your apartment, was there any _blood_ in the apartment—you know, all that stuff. So I came to have a look, and, of course, I didn't find anything, but there was that box just sitting out there on the counter, and I was _so_ upset, I had to eat something to keep up my spirits, so I had one little piece, and it was _so_ good, so I had another, then another… Well, you can imagine." He stopped for a moment, waiting for Bau's reaction, but all he got was an icy glare. "But then you were found and you were coming home, and I figured you would want to have that candy, so searched for an import store and I found one, and I bought a new box, and isn't that the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

Bau ground his teeth. "Where. Is. The old box?"

"I, ah, threw it out. It was empty anyway. You're not… upset, are you?

"Oh, nooo," Bau said, his voice sharp, mocking. "You _only_ ate an entire box of evidence in a criminal investigation!"

Chel's eyelids fluttered, and he turned his wrists out in an apology. "Umm, oops?"

The Spectre sighed, and cupped his forehead. Well, that was that. There was nothing to do about this now. He might as well enjoy some of that delicacy then, provided that this time, it had not been tampered with.

"Did you buy the new one yourself?" he asked.

"Yes. I found this really nice little shop. Pricey, but—"

"And has nobody else touched it? Did you leave it unattended for any length of time?"

"What? No. I bought it, brought it over, and put it in one of the cabinets."

"All right." Bau leaned forward, and raised one finger in the air. "Next time, don't touch my stuff."

He cut the connection, and heaved out a long breath before he rose from the chair and walked back to the kitchen. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he picked up the brightly colored package and tore the plastic seal off. The top gave a soft pop as he pulled it off, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the contents and inhale the delicious scent freed from its confines and drifting into his nostrils now. His rational mind told him that he should not have any before dinner, but he'd been waiting for this for too long, and he couldn't care less about logic and reason anymore. He plucked one out, yanked off its wrapper with one greedy move, and finally—finally!—slipped that little piece of bliss into his mouth.

His eyes closed as he chewed. The flavor was excellent—much, much better than he even remembered.

Perhaps one more wouldn't hurt; he was so hungry he didn't think anything would spoil his appetite anyway. He'd keep some for Grunt, of course. He had promised him, after all, back on Korlus, that he could have more.

He reached into the box, but his hand stilled when a chime rang in the air and the VI announced an urgent video call from the Council.

Bau wondered what that was about. He'd already sent in his preliminary report, and he knew Shepard and Vakarian had done the same back when they were still en route to the Citadel. Perhaps they wanted more details? But why couldn't they wait until the meeting they were going to schedule the next day? Maybe there was a new mission they wanted to discuss. Though that was pretty unlikely, given the state of his arm and the surgery he had mentioned he needed to go through in his statement about his injuries.

Oh, well, there was only one way to find out. He trudged back to his computer, sat down, and turned the video conferencing software on.

His heart skipped a beat and his back straightened in his seat when Councilor Tevos's lovely face shimmered up on the computer screen.

"Spectre Bau," she said, her voice as warm as ever. "It's good to see you. We were all worried about you and we are exceedingly happy about your safe return."

Bau beamed at her, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. "Thank you, Councilor. I'm glad to be back. Commander Shepard and Officer Vakarian are the ones to thank for that."

Tevos tipped her head, and smiled. "Yes. We have read the reports. In fact, that is the reason for this call."

"Oh?"

"Based on your previous assessments of their abilities and the successful completion of their mission to rescue you, how close would you say they are to concluding their training?"

Bau's grin faded. "Well, I… I would say they are quite close."

"That's what we have been hoping for. Of course, only _you_ can judge their progress and whether or not you think they are worthy—and ready—to join the esteemed ranks of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance agents, but as far as we are concerned, we are extremely satisfied with the job they did in returning you from the Blue Suns' captivity. So, if you think they have the skills required for this position, we would wholeheartedly support your evaluation."

Bau stared at the asari as he considered her proposal. The Council was obviously trying to push him into an early conclusion of the training of his students. Not that he didn't think that Shepard and Vakarian had earned the honor, but… why?

Councilor Tevos blinked, perhaps slightly uncomfortable under his scrutiny, and she shifted her stance before she went on. "The truth is, we don't have enough agents right now to handle the increased number of cases that need urgent attention. Piracy, black market weapons and drug smuggling, kidnapping, illegal enterprise of all kinds, attacks on peaceful colonies—the list goes on and on. And, with your injury, you're going to be held up for quite a while." He was going to protest, but she held up a hand." That is not a complaint, Spectre, don't misunderstand. We want you to heal fully before you go out in the field again. But every day that goes by, another terrible act happens, and another criminal goes unpunished. I'm sure you don't want that."

Bau inclined his head in agreement. Of course he didn't want that. He just… hadn't quite been prepared to cut short his time with Shepard and Vakarian. He might have been used to working alone in the past, but having his students by his side had been… nice. It reminded him of his STG days: working in a group, discussing battle tactics, the friendship, the camaraderie—

"But if you think they still need some training," Tevos continued, "Nihlus Kryik has let us know that he would be more than happy to step in as their new mentor. He is back on the Citadel, so he could easily take over the task."

Bau's gaze, unfocused until now, startled back to the asari. "That won't be necessary. I will submit my evaluation and recommendation tonight."

"Thank you." The asari smiled sweetly. "And, again, welcome home, Spectre."

Bau gave a nod, and even after she'd disconnected and her image disappeared, he sat staring at the screen for a few minutes before he began to type.

 

* * *

Stuck on their rented ship babysitting Jondum Bau's new krogan friend wasn't how Shepard would have preferred to spend their first night on the Citadel. And yet, if asked, she would have been more than ready to acknowledge that the Spectre _had_ deserved a little alone time in his own apartment.

In truth, she and Garrus couldn't really just pack up, lock down the _Blue Nebula_ , and skedaddle to Garrus's place, anyway: besides Grunt, Tali and Kenn were still on board as well, having nowhere else to go, as was Mordin, his flight back to Omega not scheduled to leave until two days later, in the afternoon.

At any rate, as it had turned out during their trip to the Citadel, Grunt wasn't nearly as much trouble as she had expected: he mostly kept to the lower deck, where he'd taken over the cargo bay (which was not a bad thing, considering he liked to punch and headbutt things), except when he came up to the mess for meals or for some clarification about a subject his tank-raised mind had difficulty wrapping itself around.

Presently, he was sitting at the dining table with Tali and Kenn, chewing on a chunk of meat Shepard had heated up for him in the microwave unit.

It was strange, considering their less than amicable introduction to each other, but Shepard felt an unexpected, almost motherly affinity towards the young krogan. Although their circumstances could not have been any more different, the way Grunt had been thrown into the world, inexperienced and clueless about the intricacies of life beyond his tank, brought up memories, painful and jagged, of her own past and the abrupt way she'd been forced to grow up after Mindoir.

As for how long she and Garrus were going to have to share accommodations with Grunt and the quarians, well, that was, at the moment, unclear. According to what Jondum Bau had told them, his plan for Grunt was to take him to Tuchanka and let him join his people once the Spectre had undergone the necessary surgery for his arm and had recuperated enough to be able to leave the hospital and embark on their next mission. As far as Tali and Kenn were concerned, they needed jobs and a place to stay if they had any hope of making it on the Citadel, and until they could find something suitable, they were more than welcome to stay on the ship with the rest of them.

How difficult it was going to be for two quarians to procure some kind of employment on the station was a question none of them really knew the answer to. Garrus had promised to try to help, and, in fact, right now, he was holed up in the crew quarters, sending out queries to his friends at C-Sec and to a few acquaintances at the tech shops he frequented, all in the hope of finding some acceptable work and a proper apartment for the two of them.

Shepard wondered how _that_ was going. He'd been in there for a while, and she couldn't imagine that was a very good sign.

Tali seemed to have the same thought. She was sitting at the table, fiddling with a piece of old tech she'd picked up on Korlus, but every once in a while, her eyes wandered nervously to the corridor Garrus had walked down almost an hour ago.

As for Kenn, whether or not he shared her anxiety, he did not show it. At first, he'd made a good-natured effort to divert his friend's attention with jokes and some small talk, but all he'd gotten back were a forced smile and a few one-word replies. After a while, he'd given up and stopped talking. Now, he sat quietly by Tali's side, his tea gone cold in his mug, his nose—or, rather, his face mask—buried deep in the technical manual of the ship.

Despite Kenn's outward calm, the anxiety in the room was nearly palpable. By the time Garrus finally emerged from their quarters and walked into the mess hall, the tension had become so dense you could cut it with a knife.

All eyes snapped to the turian's face, but he said nothing until he made it to the middle of the kitchen and stopped by the counter to lean his lower back against it.

"So?" Shepard asked, unable to wait any longer. "Any success?"

Garrus scratched the plating above his right eye before he dropped his hand and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Yes and no. No solid leads yet, but at least I wasn't outright turned down. Well, not by everybody. But some of my contacts will need to talk to a superior about possible employment opportunities, and most places are closed now. So, we'll see tomorrow." His gaze turned to Tali. "I also asked around about the salarian ship you left Illium on. I'm sorry to say that nobody has heard of them. It seems like they have not made it to the station. At least, not yet."

The gadget slipped from Tali's hand, landing with a soft thump in her lap. "Keelah." Her head dipped for a moment before she raised her eyes to search Garrus's face. "Do you think they… they're…"

"I don't know. Maybe they managed to escape but had to make an emergency landing somewhere. Anything's possible. I've asked to be notified if there's any news about them. If there is, I'll let you know."

"Thank you."

Garrus nodded, and pushed away from the counter. "You guys eaten yet? I'm starving."

"Me, too," Grunt rumbled, tossing the bone he'd carefully sucked clean onto the plate in front of him. It joined two others in a messy pile.

Garrus's eyes slid to the remains of the krogan's meal. "I… can see that."

"I could eat." Shepard rose from her seat, made the short trek to the freezer, and grabbed the sleek, metal handle on the door. "Anybody else?"

Kenn looked up, pushed the ship's manual aside, and stood up. "Dinner sounds good. Tali?"

"Yeah. I guess."

She didn't sound too convinced, her voice subdued and distracted. She picked up the old gadget again and turned it around and around in her hands, her eyes staring at some invisible spot on the table's surface in front of her.

Grunt, naturally, was much more enthusiastic. He clambered up from his chair, picked up his plate, and lumbered over to Shepard to pass it to her. "Do you have more?"

Garrus leaned closer, his mandibles flicking out in a smirk, and nudged her in the side. "Oh, look. Someone else who eats as much as you do."

Shepard smacked his arm with the back of her hand (and boy, did that hurt) in feigned protest. She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it with a quiet snap when both her and Garrus's omni-tools chimed an alert. They tapped their tools in synchronicity, as though choreographed by a skillful artist, and checked the mail they'd just received, their expressions turning tight with silent concern.

The note was from Jondum Bau.

_Commander Shepard, Officer Vakarian,_

_There is something I wish to talk to you about. Please contact me via a vid call—in private, if possible._

_Jondum Bau_

Arching a brow, Shepard turned off the screen, and flicked her eyes up at Garrus. "Wonder what this is about."

"Same." He switched off his own omni-tool and cocked his head at the corridor leading to their room. "Crew quarters?"

"Yeah."

"Problem?" Tali asked, the gadget motionless in her hands now as she watched them from behind her foggy mask.

Shepard opened her arms in a shrug and stepped away from the freezer to start the short walk to their room. "Don't know yet. Bau wants to talk to us. We'll be right back."

"What about my food?" Grunt grumbled, his blue eyes blinking at her in disappointment.

"Oh. Yeah." She turned back, pulled out another package from the freezer, and offered it to Kenn. "Can you heat it up for him?"

Kenn took the box and turned it around until he found the instructions. "Sure."

"Thanks." She threw him a smile and hurried after Garrus, already halfway down the corridor, and followed him to the crew quarters.

She stepped through the door just as he'd sat down on his mattress and initiated the vid call on his omni-tool. He gestured for her to join him on his bed, and held out his arm so both of them would be in the frame during their talk to their mentor.

Shepard plopped down next to him, watching as the holo screen shimmered to life and Jondum Bau's face appeared in the air in front of them.

"Ah, Officer Vakarian. Commander Shepard," the Spectre said. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on the desk he appeared to be sitting at. "Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. I assume everything's going all right on the ship?"

Shepard nodded. "Everything's fine. We were just about to have dinner with the others."

"My apologies for the interruption." He waved off Garrus's protest about it not being a problem, and smiled. "But I think you'll like what I'm going to say."

He took a breath and waited for a long moment, seemingly enjoying the suspense as he studied his protégés' confused expressions, before he leaned forward again and began his speech.

"After my conversation with the Council about your exceptional performance during your training as well as on your mission to track me down and deliver me from the planet of my captivity, I've come to the conclusion that you—both of you—have, in fact, fulfilled all the necessary requirements and are more than qualified to join the ranks of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance agents. Therefore, tonight, I submitted my final report on your training and put forth a recommendation to the Council that both you, Commander Shepard, and you, Officer Vakarian, be inducted as the newest Spectres to serve in the Council's service."

Shepard's eyes widened as she stared at the holo image. Beside her, Garrus sat perfectly still, and although she could not tear her gaze away from the twinkling image of the salarian, the lack of sound or motion from her turian companion made it fairly obvious that he was having the same reaction as her.

Bau nodded, his smile widening into a near grin, as he went on. "I have just received word that my recommendation has been approved. I expect that the Council will send you an official communiqué soon, but I wanted to be the first to say: Congratulations, Spectres. It's been an honor and a pleasure to work with you."

For a moment, no-one talked as Bau's glowing, three dimensional form beamed at his students through the air and Shepard and Garrus sat frozen on the mattress in stunned silence.

It was Garrus who shook himself out of his daze first. He cleared his throat and shifted on the bed, releasing his spine from its rigid position at last. "I, uh, thank you. The honor was mine."

Shepard forced a smile on her face. "Yes. Mine as well. And thank you for all your guidance and advice. They will be a great help in the future."

"Speaking of which," Bau continued, "you'll probably receive your assignments from the Council very soon. When you do, please contact me, because I'd like to talk to you before you leave the station. Good night."

Without waiting for an answer, he reached forward and pushed a button, terminating the call and leaving only a few sparkling particles behind.

Unable to move, Shepard stared at the spot the Spectre's mirage had been hovering until a moment ago. She should have been ecstatic. No more red tape, no more impotent inefficiency when dealing with the scum of the galaxy. With her hands untied and with the Council's resources at her back, from now on, she was free to handle any situation any way she wanted. That was all she'd ever wished for: to be able to do good without being held back. And yet. Of all the thoughts and emotions swirling in her brain and tightening her heart in her chest, the loudest one was the sorrow at having to say good-bye to Garrus.

She turned her head to look at him, and found him watching her, his eyes the saddest shade of blue she'd ever seen.

"So…" he said, his voice quiet, downcast. "This is it."

She nodded, the corner of her lips quirking up into a cheerless half smile. "Yeah."

Silently, he took her hand, and she blew out a deep breath as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I didn't expect it to be so soon," he said. His thumb ghosted over the back of her hand, caressing her skin with tender strokes.

"Me neither."

They were quiet, sitting side by side, until he reached around her back, wrapped his hands around her waist, and pulled her onto his lap, sitting her sideways on his thighs. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and kept silent for a few moments before he spoke.

"We'll keep in touch. And we'll make sure to carve out a little bit of time for each other whenever we can. Even Spectres must get some shore leave every once in a while. Not being tied to C-Sec or the Alliance now should make things easier anyway." He took a slow inhale, and lifted his head to look into her eyes. "Maybe we'll get lucky and end up with a few missions that are close enough for us to do together."

She nodded, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Spectres teaming up for some short cooperation was not unheard of but, as far as she knew, it was extremely rare. Most of them were kept busy with their own cases, or preferred to do things on their own. Still. It was a possibility, even if their chances were low. "Yeah. Maybe."

Garrus's eyes softened, and his mandibles spread out in a small smile. "I think my father's going to have an aneurysm when he finds out."

Something in her chest loosened up, and Shepard laughed, touching her hand to the uninjured side of his face. "Are you going to call him?"

"I won't have to. I'm sure I'll hear his yelling all the way from Palaven." He cocked his head, his eyes drifting off as he pondered something. "Actually, I'm exaggerating. He hardly ever yells. His displeasure usually manifests itself in cold silence or soil-scorching glares of disappointment."

"And the rest of your family?"

"My mother's going to be happy for me. My sister will tell me not to let it go to my head, because if I do, she'll track me down and personally kick my ass." He refocused his gaze on Shepard, his mandibles held tight to his face as his eyes locked onto hers. "How about the, ah, people in your life? How will they react?"

Shepard chewed on her lower lip as she thought back to Captain Anderson, her friends on the _Normandy_ , her superiors, the well-wishers, and the assholes who could not wait for her to fail. "Well, some will be happy for me as well. Some will be jealous. Some will accuse me of abandoning the Alliance and not caring about humanity anymore." She shrugged, opening her hands with a grimace. "I don't know. I've never been made Spectre before."

Her omni-tool pinged. A second later, Garrus's did, too.

The message was from the Council, just as Bau had predicted.

 

_Dear Commander Shepard,_

_We are pleased to inform you that, with your training now complete, you have passed the qualification requirements to join the prestigious ranks of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance group and to serve, with honor and dignity, the galaxy under the guidance of this Council._

_We expect to see you in the next day cycle at 0900 hours (Galactic Standard Time) in the Council chambers for your induction, a short orientation, and the assignment of your first missions._

_Congratulations, Commander. We are looking forward to working with you in the future._

_Councilor Tevos_

_Councilor Sparatus_

_Councilor Velarn_

Shepard glanced over at Garrus's omni-tool. He looked up, and turned his wrist so she could read the text on his screen.

"Did you get the same message?" he asked.

"Yeah. Oh-nine-hundred hours. Looks like we'll do the thing together." _One last time,_ she wanted to add. Garrus said nothing, but his eyes spoke enough. He was thinking the same thing.

Shepard took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "We should probably get back to the mess and let the others know."

"Yeah."

With a sigh, she detached herself from his lap and stood up, stretching her spine with a pop, and shuffled out of the room into the corridor.

Garrus followed her, his footsteps heavy on the metal floor. Whether the rest of the crew had just stopped talking or they'd been quiet this whole time, there were no jokes, no teasing, no lighthearted banter as they entered the mess hall.

Grunt, Tali, and Kenn were sitting around the dining table just as before, as was Mordin as well now, a datapad with glowing charts and diagrams in his left hand and a mug with some kind of steaming liquid in his right. He looked up as Shepard and Garrus entered, raised his brows at their sour expressions, and put the datapad down.

Tali turned around to look at them as well, abandoning the straw sticking out of the cup in front of her.

"So? What's going on?" she asked.

Garrus pulled out a chair, turned it around, and settled down on it, resting his forearms on the back. "Apparently, our training is over. Shepard and I have just been informed that we've fulfilled the requirements to become Council Spectres. We'll be inducted tomorrow morning."

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, everybody started to talk at once.

"That's great!"

"Congratulations."

"Keelah. So that's why you've been in there for so long."

"What's a Spectre?"

Shepard held up a hand. "Thanks." She turned to Grunt and gave him a small smile. "Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Basically, we'll be working for the Council to fight assholes and keep the peace in the galaxy, with no restrictions on how to achieve those goals."

Grunt's eyes lit up, and he nodded, his lips stretching into a grin. "Nice.'

"So, what happens now?" Tali asked. "And what about this ship?"

Garrus scrubbed a hand across his forehead. "We'll get our assignments tomorrow morning. Until then, I don't know. I'm guessing Shepard and I will probably need to get our own ships. Something better suited for Spectre work than a rented commercial vessel." Tali's shoulders slumped, and he reached over to lay a hand on her arm. "But don't worry. You and Kenn can stay in my apartment until I manage to find you a job and a permanent place to stay."

Behind her mask, Tali sniffed. She dipped her head in gratitude, and patted Garrus's hand on her arm. "Thank you. You're a good friend."

"No problem. Just don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain." Grinning at Tali's chuckle, he gathered himself up and walked to the refrigerator. "Maybe now I can actually eat something."

Shepard watched him, her chest heavy, as he fixed himself some dinner, and when her own stomach growled, she got something to eat, too.

They ate, listening to the others chat and joke about silly little things, but this time, they didn't stay for their usual Skyllian Five game. Citing the need to be fresh the next day, they got ready for an early bed, and walked into their room for what they both feared was their last night together for quite a while.

Garrus climbed into bed and held up his blanket, flattening his back to the wall to make room for her, and Shepard squeezed in beside him without a second thought about the tightness of the space.

They made quiet, gentle love that night, and later, much later, they held each other tight as they drifted off to sleep.


	33. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, the last chapter! (If you read updates by opening up the story and going to the latest chapter, also check out chapter 32, since that's the first part of the end.)
> 
> Huge thanks to Suilven for beta reading.

Shepard had gone through enough promotions and induction ceremonies to have a pretty good idea of what to expect from the Council's ritual of welcoming their new Spectres into their fold. And, indeed, most of the steps were rather familiar: the speeches about her and Garrus's accomplishments, the honor of the job, the responsibilities, the long list of rights and obligations, then the extraction of some the DNA samples, assigning their ID numbers, and swearing them in.

What she had _not_ expected, was to have Udina stand right by her side the entire time, puffing out his chest and acting as though her accomplishments were all his own.

She wasn't even sure why he was there. She figured the Council must have sent him a note, letting him know about their decision, and he had demanded to be invited to the procedure so that he could witness the event as humanity's representative on the Citadel.

At least he kept his mouth shut (which must have been a first for him, she thought)—until Councilor Tevos folded her hands in front of her flat stomach, looked Shepard and Garrus in the eye, and made an unexpected suggestion.

"Before we talk about your assignments," she began, her voice soft, steady, as always, "we would like to discuss a recommendation both Spectre Kryik and Spectre Bau have put forward in their reports. Namely, the fact that, during your training, you two have developed a strong and effective partnership which, according to their assessment, has worked extremely well in your investigations and the conduction of your missions. As a result, both Spectres have recommended that you continue working as a team, if you are willing to do so."

Shepard bit down on the inside of her cheeks, willing her face to show some restraint and not break out in a grin. Well. This morning had turned out to be full of surprises—but at least this last one was very, very nice indeed, unlike the man standing right next to her and, at the moment, turning flaming red with fury.

"Absolutely not!" Udina shouted, raising an enraged fist in the air. "You are not going to diminish the first human Spectre's role by putting her on a _team_! She can do the work on her own."

"The decision is up to Commander Shepard and Officer Vakarian, not to _you_ ," Sparatus remarked, his eyes flashing with contempt. His tone, sharp and terse, made no secret of his less than cordial feelings about humanity's representative on the Citadel.

Tevos forced a patient smile on her face and raised a placating hand. "Such cooperation between a human and a turian Spectre would be good PR for all parties involved. It could also help cement humanity's status in the galactic community. And it wouldn't have to be forever; it could last as long as both parties agree, and could be amicably dissolved any time they no longer wish to work together."

"Not to mention the financial advantages," Valern, dispassionately silent until now, added with a tilt of his head. "Some of the missions that need to be done require a fair amount of resources, and combining the funds of two new Spectres who lack the benefit of years of accumulated weaponry, armor, and other assets, could accomplish more than going it alone."

Ah. Shepard's head dipped in a barely discernible nod. So, besides Nihlus's and Bau's recommendations, this was the main reason for the Council to jump on the idea of keeping her and Garrus together. Simple economics, really. It was cheaper and more efficient to equip one team with the necessary gear for some complex, faraway mission (which she supposed she and Garrus were about to get sent on) than to provide funds to two separate people and hope that they could make it on their own. She couldn't argue with that—not that she wanted to. This arrangement suited her fine. It suited her _just fine_.

"I think it's a great idea," she said. From the corner of her eye, she could see Udina whip his head at her, trying to glare blazing holes in her skull. She ignored it.

"I agree," Garrus jumped in. "Commander Shepard and I have developed a well-working routine. I am confident we could tackle any operation with great efficiency if we combined our resources and worked together as a team."

Tevos smiled, genuinely this time. "Excellent. We shall deposit the necessary funds in your accounts. And when we're done here, please visit the Spectre offices to make any weapon and armor purchases you'd like." She turned to Udina, her expression reverting to her usual neutral mask, and she waved a hand at the door. "Now, we'll need to talk about the assignments for our new Spectres. Thank you, ambassador, for having joined us for this memorable occasion. Have a nice day."

Udina made a strangled noise in his throat, cast one last disapproving look at Shepard, and stormed out.

Shepard could not be bothered to watch him go.

 

* * *

The missions the Council had selected for their newest agents did, indeed, require a fair amount of resources. Tracking down a dangerous gang of pirates that had been luring commercial ships into their traps to kill or enslave the crew and steal their resources (they sounded very much like the ones Tali had encountered, and frankly, Shepard could _not_ wait to get her hands on them), finding Vido Santiago's brother and bringing him to justice for having kidnapped a Council Spectre (a goal Shepard could not have agreed with any more), infiltrating a ring of weapons smugglers that had recently decided to replenish their stock with stolen equipment from various military warehouses around the galaxy, and investigating a biotech company purportedly conducting illegal cloning experiments (on Noveria, of all places) needed a fast ship with adequate weapons and armor, a good supply of intel and ammunition, and would have had a much lower possible rate of success if attempted alone.

By the time the briefing had come to an end and the Council had retreated from the chambers, leaving Shepard and Garrus to see themselves out, it was almost noon. Shepard's stomach growled, but she ignored it: her head was swimming with too many plans and ideas about the missions to pay attention to the hunger gnawing at her insides.

"We need a new ship," she said, heading to the door. "Something more suitable for combat than the _Blue Nebula_. And I can't wait to see what Spectre grade weapons we can pick up at the—"

"I know, but first..." Three strong fingers wrapped around her arm and she stopped, throwing a questioning gaze over her shoulder. Garrus looked around, found a spot behind a column, and pulled her along with him until they were outside of the cameras' range. He pushed her against the stone pedestal, lifted her armored body with admirable ease, and pressed his mouth plates to her lips. Smiling against his mouth, Shepard snaked her arms around his neck and let his tongue slip in, and he kissed her, slow, deep, before he put her back down on the ground and pressed his forehead to hers.

After a moment of silence, he pulled back and gave her a mandibles-spread-wide grin. "So, that went well."

Shepard huffed out a chuckle. "Yeah. Much better than I'd thought it would. Looks like you're stuck with me."

"I'm not complaining."

"Neither am I."

Still grinning, Garrus stepped away from her and gestured at the door. "All right. _Now_ we can go."

 

* * *

Picking out their new equipment from Spectre Requisitions, then finding their very own, well-equipped, well-armored ship and stocking it with supplies took all afternoon. After that, the only thing left to do was to return their rented vessel to Kunn's Ships and Shuttles, but that had to wait until they'd moved all their stuff to the new ship and the four people still on board the old one had disembarked, whether to take up residence in Garrus's apartment or to wait in a hotel room for their flight off of the Citadel.

By the time Shepard and Garrus got back to the _Blue Nebula,_ tired, hungry, but mostly just really, really happy, it was late in the evening.

They found everybody in the mess hall, in nearly identical positions as they had been the previous night, with Tali still picking at the old tech, Kenn reading the technical manual, Mordin working on some medical charts on his datapad, and Grunt eating something crunchy out of a box.

Shepard wondered where _that_ had come from; it didn't look like anything she had seen before.

"What's that?" she asked, leaning over to examine the colorful packaging.

"Forgot what they're called," Grunt said in between two bites. "But they're good."

Tali put down the gadget in her hands and lifted her head. "Bau sent them to him. In the note that came with it, he said he'd promised to share some with him back when they were on Korlus."

"Oh. Right. Bau." Shepard shot Garrus a look. "He'd asked us to give him a call. We still have to do that."

Kenn held up a hand. "Wait. Before you go: how were things with the Council? You've been gone a long time."

This time, Shepard didn't even try to hold back the grin spreading across her face.

"Fine. You're looking at the Council's two newest Spectres."

Garrus pulled up a chair and sat down, nodding his head in thanks at the cheers erupting around the table. "We need to talk about what's going to happen now. Shepard and I have received our assignments, and that means we'll have to leave the Citadel soon. We've already purchased a new ship, so we'd like to return this one by tomorrow morning. That means that we all have to vacate the—"

Tali raised a finger in the air. " _A_ ship? As in, one ship for both of you? You're not going to go off on your own on separate missions after this?"

Garrus glanced over at Shepard. She cocked out a hip and folded her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah, well," she said, schooling her expression into a neutral one. "The Council, ah, suggested that we remain a team, and we agreed."

Her eyes slid to Mordin, catching his grin before he ducked his head to hide his amusement. Tali and Kenn nodded in acknowledgement, and Grunt said nothing, his mouth still full with whatever it was he'd been munching on.

"So," Garrus continued, "we'll need to move all our stuff out of this ship so we can return it to the rental place. I can take you, Kenn and Tali, to my apartment and get you settled in, and Grunt, we can try to find a hotel for you to stay at while you wait for Bau to recover. Mordin, since your flight leaves tomorrow anyway, you can wait for the departure on our new ship, if you wish. All right?"

"Yes. Thank you." Kenn tilted his head and cleared his throat, hesitating before he asked, "Any news about the jobs?"

"Oh. I've been so busy today I forgot to check." Garrus opened up his omni-tool and scrolled through his messages. "Nothing yet. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow."

"It's all right." Kenn's voice was as pleasant as always, but he couldn't hide the disappointment in his tone.

"So..." Tali started, eyes downcast as she began fiddling with the old gadget again, "did you get any interesting assignments? Or is it a secret?"

Shepard chewed on her lip for a moment, conducting a short debate in her head whether to tell her about the pirates or keep that information to herself and Garrus. Ultimately, she decided Tali deserved to know.

"Actually," she said, watching the quarian carefully, "one of them involves some pirates who sound pretty much like the bastards that attacked the salarian ship you left Illium on."

Tali's head snapped up. "Really?" She stared at Shepard, her fingers tightening around the metallic object in her hands. "I... would very much like to participate in that mission. Please."

Shepard's brows puckered into a frown. "It's going to be dangerous. I don't think—"

Tali dropped her toy onto the table and surged from her seat, flattening the palms of her hands on the metal surface in front of her as she leaned forward, her eyes glowing with agitation within the confines of her mask. "I can fight. You have _seen_ me fight. I need to find out what happened to my shipmates. Help them if I can. I owe it to them."

Shepard glanced at Garrus. He'd turned his head so he could look at her, and he gave her a slow nod. She sighed, rubbing her forehead, and rolled her eyes up at the ceiling before she settled her gaze on Tali again. "All right."

Before she could say anything else, Kenn piped up. "If Tali goes, I will, too."

"And me," Grunt rumbled, popping the final piece of his snack into his mouth. "I'd much rather have a good fight than sit in some stupid hotel room."

Garrus huffed out a sharp exhale and shook his head. "Great." He turned to Mordin. The salarian looked up from his datapad and smiled. "Don't tell me you want to come, too."

Mordin's smile stretched into a grin. "Would love to, but need to get back to patients on Omega. Afraid you'll have to do this one without me."

Shepard dropped her arms by her side, a sudden wave of exhaustion shivering through her muscles. She pulled out the chair next to Garrus and sank down onto it, resting her forearms on the table's surface. "Okay. The help is... appreciated. We can't pay you much, though. We got some funds, but not a whole lot." Her future team members waved her concern off, and she went on. "And we'll probably be gone for quite some time." Which reminded her of another issue, one she had not considered before. Now she really wanted to slam her forehead into the table for not having kept her mouth shut. "And, uh, there's something else."

She looked at Garrus. He turned his head to look back at her, his eyes searching her face for a hint of what she was going to say. "I..." she started, and swallowed. "If we're going to share accommodations again, I don't want to pretend anymore."

Garrus's mandibles spread out in a grin, and he slid his long fingers across the table to grab her hand. He gave her an approving squeeze, and continued where she'd left off. "Shepard and I are... more than just teammates. We're going to share the captain's cabin on our new ship. If that bothers you, you can still back out of this. No hard feelings."

There was a moment of silence before Tali spoke. "That's the big secret?" She laughed, sat down again, and leaned back in her chair. "I think we all knew it already."

Kenn nodded. "I know I did."

"Heh." Grunt's lips stretched into a wide-lipped smirk. "Me, too."

Shepard's eyes snapped to Mordin. "You told them."

"Mordin? No, he didn't." Tali waved a hand. "He didn't have to. Even the blind could see the way you looked at each other."

"Or smell you on each other every morning you crawled out of your room," Grunt added.

Shepard's cheeks heated up with a blush. "Oh."

"All right, then." Garrus bumped her knee, cupped her shoulder, and rose from his seat. "Let's make that call to Bau. Then all of you, gather up your bags. We're moving to our new place."

 

* * *

The topic Bau had wished to talk about with them turned out to be Grunt.

"I'm a bit concerned about him," he said, drumming his fingers on the desk in front of him, his holographic image flickering with bright colors in the air. "I imagine you'll be leaving the station soon, and with me in the hospital and both of you gone, I'm not sure how well he'll tolerate being cooped up in a hotel room all by himself. I'd rather not have to deal with complaints of broken furniture and worse, an enormous bill, when I get released. So I was wondering if you could take him to Tuchanka—provided it's not too big a detour from your flight plan."

Shepard scratched the back of her neck. Right. Tuchanka. They probably should have talked to Jondum Bau before agreeing to take Grunt on their mission with them. On the other hand, Grunt, despite being just a few weeks old (a few months at most, depending on how you looked at it), was a grown person, not a child. He could make his decisions on his own.

"Actually," she said, "Grunt has asked to come with us. And we agreed."

"Oh." Shepard couldn't tell if the Spectre was relieved or disappointed. Perhaps both. "Well, then. That's... good. Good luck. And if you need anything in the future, please don't hesitate to contact me."

He stretched out his arm to disconnect, but stopped when Shepard held up a hand.

"You, too. And... Spectre Bau, we'd like to thank you once again for everything you've done for Garrus and myself. Including your suggestion for us to, ah, stay together as a team."

Bau smiled. "I noticed you two had developed a liking for each other. In our line of work, having someone like that to fight alongside with, to spend your day with—it's precious. I'm glad the Council agreed with my recommendation."

"Yes. So are we." Out of the view of the vid camera, Garrus squeezed Shepard's knee. "Good luck with the surgery."

"Thank you." Bau reached forward, and with a light pop, his image dissolved into thin air.

Garrus stood from the bed they'd been sitting on, and offered his hand to Shepard to pull her up. She accepted.

"Let's get packing, then." He walked over to his locker and pulled out his duffle bag.

Shepard followed his example, but stopped when her omni-tool pinged. She raised her arm to check the mail she'd just received, opened up her messaging program, and groaned.

The message was from Udina.

"What is it?" Garrus asked, his body twisting backwards from his locker to look at her.

"Udina wants to have a party tomorrow night to celebrate my appointment as the first human Spectre. With lots of dignitaries and the press, of course."

"I'm guessing you don't want to go?"

"Hell, no."

He chuckled, and turned all the way around. "Well. As one half of this team, I think I have a say in our schedule. And I insist— _absolutely insist_ —that we leave tomorrow morning. I'm sorry, Shepard, but our mission is just too urgent."

She snorted a laugh, and put her hands on her hips. "Unbelievable. Is this how it's going to be, then? You interfering with my very important political functions?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Fine." She walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. "Thank you."

"For you, anything."

"Aww." She buried her face in the crook of his neck and tightened her grip. "I can get used to this."

"Me, too. But you'd better stop that or else we'll never get out of this room. And I'm guessing the bed will be much more comfortable on our new ship."

"Good point."

She gave him one more kiss, let him go, and started packing.

 

* * *

The next few hours were spent transferring everybody's belongings to the new ship, returning the _Blue Nebula_ to her original owner and settling their bill with the volus attendant on call (which involved some arguing about a few extra fees he tried to slap on to the final amount), setting up all the access codes to the computer and engineering systems in their future home, and coming up with an actual name for the spacecraft they were going to spend the majority of their lives in from here on out.

It took some discussion, but they settled on _The Intrepid_ , which made Grunt enormously happy.

It was late into the night cycle when they collapsed into bed (Shepard and Garrus in the captain's cabin, Tali and Kenn in the crew quarters, and Grunt in the cargo hold, as usual). Mordin stayed up, not needing more sleep than an hour a day, sitting in the small mess as he plucked away at some scientific dissertation on his datapad.

Morning came sooner than Shepard would have liked, and brought with it a flood of messages about her new position. Half were requests for interviews from an assortment of reporters (al-Jilani, of course, sent two), and the other half consisted of congratulations from Captain Anderson, Admiral Hackett, and Shepard's friends on the _Normandy_ , the latter laced with good-natured jabs at her new job. Shepard planned to reply to these later, when she had a moment to breathe. al-Jilani and the rest of the press, on the other hand, she was going to ignore.

Before they could leave, they needed to do some additional shopping for food and ammo, given that their crew had expanded significantly the day before. Garrus and Kenn volunteered, leaving Tali to check out the engines and Shepard to do a test run of all the onboard systems. Shepard wondered if the arrangement, which Garrus had suggested, was to spare her the annoyance of having to ward off news-hungry reporters. She didn't ask, and he didn't say, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

A couple hours later, Garrus and Kenn were back on board, and with all the supplies finally put away, it was time for Mordin to get off the ship and for the rest of them to prepare for departure.

"Good-bye, Professor," Shepard said, enveloping the salarian's tall frame in a hug. "Thank you for everything."

Mordin grinned, patted her on the back, and when she let go, he reached into his bag and pulled out a large bottle. "For bedroom activities with Vakarian. Much better than that cheap stuff you got from who knows where. Can supply more when needed."

Blushing, Shepard took the bottle from his hands. "Thanks."

"Happy to help."

He gave a wave to the rest of the group, and strolled off the ship.

Shepard watched his back until he airlock door closed behind him. Once he was gone, she walked into the cockpit to join Garrus, sat down in the pilot's seat, and gave the turian a smile.

"All right. Ready?"

"I've been ready for hours," he drawled.

She chuckled, started up the engines, and eased _The Intrepid_ off the landing pad. They glided away from the docking bay and soared through the air, gradually leaving the Citadel behind, and as they began their journey, she couldn't help but smile when she remembered her irritation, so many months ago, upon first meeting the man sitting beside her now.

So many things had changed since then. She'd found a friend, a lover, a confidante, and, unexpectedly, a new crew as well, along the way.

Maybe the universe did not hate her after all. The way she was looking at it now, her life had actually turned out pretty nice.

Pretty nice, indeed.

 

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aand, that’s the end. This story took me almost 3 years to write, and I couldn’t have done it without my wonderful beta readers, KabiViolet and Suilven, and the support of all of you who have left kudos, followed, and bookmarked this story and most of all, those of you who took the time to leave encouraging comments on my updates. Thank you! Seriously, you are the ones who made me want to finish this fic even when I didn’t feel very motivated to write anymore. So, big hugs to all of you. :)


End file.
